#there was a sign on the door that said only two students in store at a time and backpacks must be left at the front i saw three girls waitin

[chuuphic]

forced to leave backpack at door of walgreens due to babyface allegations

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — THREE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, somehow also a christmas and new year’s au, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, rumors as a plot device, bullying, alcohol consumption, cheesy shit, a few makeout scenes WAHAHHAHA. WORD COUNT. 28k (out of 49k).

NOTE. whoa.....HAHHAHAHA. this was long overdue, so i saved up my yapping for the afterword. anyhow, here it finally is 😭😭😭 my blood, sweat, and tears. mostly tears. enjoy. please let me know what you think, and happy new year to all!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

#3: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HOW MUCH OF YOUR IDENTITY HE’S STRIPPED AWAY. Your title has changed from Choi Beomgyu’s girlfriend to Choi Beomgyu’s cheating girlfriend. Such an upgrade. It’s like you have a sign with that title label hovering and pointing to your head every time you pass through a decently crowded hallway, or enter an occupied area. Like Horangnabi, for example. You’re minding your own business, sipping on your iced mocha, and the people on the next table keep snagging glances at you.

Julie shows up with a loud cough, practically slamming your cinnamon waffle onto the table. The group snaps their eyes off of you and jumps into a sudden conversation. Julie rolls her eyes. “If I hear anyone talking crap, I’m kicking them out of the shop.”

“Are you even allowed to do that?” You’re pretty sure the cafe belongs to the school. And Julie seonbae is still a student here. 

“No one’s ever here to supervise. This is my store now,” is her logical response. She takes a seat in front of you. You’re also pretty sure she’s still on duty. “Anyway, how was your break, pretty? Did you get some rest?”

Last week was the rest week after midterms, so you were able to spend the last six days at home in Daegu. Beomgyu wasn’t able to join you because he and the coding club— and this was hard to believe at first— had decided to join a game development contest hosted by TXT Inc. Shocker, you know. You couldn’t believe your ears after hearing the news from Beomgyu. 

But he crushes your feeling of pride just as quickly as he triggered it. They’re not doing this entirely out of passion and willingness, he said. The extracurriculars office threatened to shut down their club if they fail to show any tangible results before the end of the semester. 

Well, you guess if there’s anything that can get a bunch of boys to actually start properly operating their club, a dissolution threat will work wonders. They scrambled to find something they could do— a proposal to improve the MIS, events, anything. Fortunately for them, the TXT Inc. competition advertisement showed up on Yeonjun’s feed right when they needed it. Unfortunately, the deadline for the contest is mid-December. It’s now the last week of October. They’ve got like two months to cram an entire game from scratch, so for the entirety of the one-week break, they’ve been in a self-imposed isolation in the clubroom. To say that they’re on a tight schedule is an understatement. 

Which is why you’re at Horangnabi right now. To buy a fuckload of coffee for those poor, sleep-deprived chumps. Another barista walks up to your table with a dozen cups of coffee, halved into two takeout containers, and you bid Julie farewell before heading out to make your way to the clubroom.

It’s concerning how they haven’t even locked the door. It’s even more concerning how you’re met with pitch darkness the moment you swing the door open— save for the singular glow of one computer screen on the opposite end of the room.

You flick the lightswitch on. Groans erupt. It’s like you’ve just revived the dead.

“Turn off the sun,” you hear Heeseung groan from below. He’s laid on the worn out couch by the door, shifting around underneath a blanket. Looking around, you see the other corpses strewn about. “Turn it off.”

“What a mess.” Navigating through the sleeping bags on the floor (sleeping bodies included), you notice that it’s littered with a distressing amount of plastic bottles and takeout boxes. You grimace. “I got you guys coffee. Come and get it.”

The first person to be revived is Yeonjun. The sound of the containers set on the table stir him up from the couch, next to Heeseung, and he stumbles over to you, finishing out an americano from the box. “Thanks,” he drawls out, patting you on the head before making a turn towards the door. “Ugh. I need to wash my face.”

“You go do that,” you say. “Everyone, come get your coffee then get out. This place is a biohazard. Go out and get some sunlight while I clean up.”

If they keep working in this environment, you’re pretty sure one or seven of them are gonna catch a disease. After a few more moments of coaxing and physical threats, most of them eventually evacuate from the clubroom. You had to physically kick Heeseung out before locking the door. The only one left is a certain Choi Beomgyu, still curled up on a chair against the half-wall. He’s stuck behind the table, one remaining cup of coffee left behind for him. Poor guy. He looks like absolute shit. You decide to pick up the crap on the floor first before kicking him out.

To get some more light in this damned cave, you pull open the curtains and turn on the lights in the back. Copious amounts of rustling and two full trash bags later, Beomgyu is still knocked out. You’re not surprised. He sleeps like a corpse.

You set the bag aside against the door, spraying some sanitizer into your hands before walking up to him, quietly wedging yourself behind the table because he’s still got his headphones glued to his ears. That can’t be healthy. You try to remove it from his head, sitting down on the chair next to him, carefully placing your hands on the sides of his face, but this stirs him awake.

Beomgyu grumbles and shifts in his seat. And then you hear him mumble out your name with a question mark at the end. “Morning, idiot,” you say, retracting your hands. “I got you coffee.”

“It’s...it’s morning?” he groans, barely coherent.

“It’s five past nine,” you tell him. “What time did you sleep?”

“I don’t know,” he grunts, pulling up his legs to the chair and scrunching himself up even more with a yawn. “I just decided to nap when my eyes couldn’t distinguish the ones from the zeroes anymore.”

You laugh. “Get some more rest,” you say, getting up from the chair. “I���ll close the curtains, hold on—”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re tugged back onto your seat, and you feel Beomgyu drop his head onto your shoulder. “I’m gonna—” he releases another yawn. “I need’ta get up in a bit anyway.”

A breath slips past your lips. His head is so god damned heavy and you struggle to squirm into a comfortable enough position, all while trying to make sure you’re not moving too much to keep his head steady on your abused shoulder. While you’re doing that, you hear a knock from the other side of the clubroom door. Which is weird, because none of those fuckers knock at all. They tend to just barge in whenever they want.

Beomgyu recognizes this anomaly as well. He jolts up, relieving you from his weight. “Ah, shit,” he remarks, and— for some reason— starts...crawling underneath the table? “Can you answer the door? If someone’s looking for me, tell them I’m not here.”

You’re more than a little confused. Beomgyu’s face wrinkles into a grunt when another round of door knocks echo into the space, and he ducks further under the table, shielded from whoever the hell is on the other side of the door in case they walk in. Despite not receiving any answers on an explanation, you do as he says. Opening the door, you’re immediately slapped in the face by a loud, over enthusiastic voice that you don’t recognize.

“Choi Beomgyu, you can’t keep running from us anym—”

The guy cuts himself off, eyes wide at the recognition that you are not his person of interest. You don’t recognize him, but he seems to recognize you, confirmed by how he coughs up your name with so much weariness that it almost feels like he’s wronged you somehow.

“Yes?” you say, brow raised. He gulps. Who is this man, how does he know you, and why is he scared of you?

“Oh, uh— Yeonjun told us Beomgyu would be here…?”

“He’s not,” you reply, crossing your arms and tilting your body to the doorframe, just to give your friend some extra coverage. “But I can send the message. What do you want from him?”

You’re very aware of the amount of attitude you’re expelling right now. “W—well, you know the autumn festival is next month, right?”

“Get to the point.”

He flinches out a nod. “I, uh, I came here to try and convince your boyfriend to join the Battle of the Bands competition for the festival. The ICT department still needs some vacant slots to fill, so...do you think...you can maybe…?”

Ah. Right. There’s that thing. The festival. Your seniors have been sending messages in the group chat about it and Heeseung did mention that off-handedly at one point. They scouted him for your department’s band, too, but he’s still on the fence about it because of the competition deadline they’re trying to catch. That doesn’t answer why Choi Beomgyu is currently hiding under the table though. “Who are you again?” you ask in an attempt to get some hints. This question sends the guy frozen and standing perfectly upright.

“S—sorry, I’m Choi Soobin,” he introduces. “I’m Beomgyu’s senior from the department.”

Your face stiffens. Well, god damn, you’ve just been totally rude to a senior. You clear your throat, brushing your embarrassment aside by inhaling a sharp breath. “I’ll see what I can do,” you simply say before shutting the door. Once the lock clicks, you immediately taunt Beomgyu out of his hiding spot. “You piece of shit, you could’ve at least told me I needed to be respectful!”

“Wow. You’re so brave for talking to someone older than you like that.” He snickers, shuffling out from under the table before grinning at you, now standing at full height. “Your temper has mellowed out lately. I forgot that you’re inherently Satan’s underling whose default setting is to be mean and cranky.”

“Shut it,” you roll your eyes, moving back over to the door to take a peek if Choi Soobin had already left the premises. He has. The hallway is more or less empty. You turn your head back, looking over your shoulder at Beomgyu, who has his hands in his pockets, face scrunched in a yawn. You can’t help but notice the bags underneath his eyes, the gaunt paleness of his skin. A sinking feeling hits you. “C’mon. All your clubmates have left. Let’s get you photosynthesized, fuckface.”

The both of you trek the relatively barren path from the ICT building to the courtyard, planning to circle all the way back because god knows when was the last time this guy had been able to do some exercise. Pace slow, you cock your head to eye Beomgyu. He’s silently sipping on the coffee you got him, the mid-autumn leaves crunching underneath the soles of his feet as more cascade down from the trees lining your path. When your gaze shifts up, Choi Beomgyu still looks as tired as ever underneath the sun. You frown, biting on the straw of your own drink. 

“Why didn’t you want to join the band thing, by the way? You usually say yes to these things.”

Beomgyu looks over at you. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” you start. “Last sem’s E-Sports Fest. The conference thing. Not to mention all throughout highschool, you’d never miss the opportunity to be the center of attention. I’m just a little surprised.”

He lets out a hum. “Well, my priorities have changed.” Beomgyu reaches out for the top of your head with his free hand, plucking out a stray orange leaf from one of the trees above before flicking it away. “I’m already busy with the game dev contest as is. I’d rather focus my time on the important things.”

“Wow. So mature. I’m gonna tell your mom her son is all grown up.” All he does is roll his eyes at you. You laugh.

Despite that conviction of his, however, Choi Beomgyu is pretty quick to change his mind.

The next day, you’re back at the clubroom again with another set of coffee orders. It looks a lot more livable than yesterday. You call out their orders one-by-one, “Heeseung, iced mocha,” and they come up to the table to snatch it from your hands.

“Thanks, dear friend of mine,” Heeseung says, tipping your service with a firm smack on the back.

“I spit in your drink,” you retort back. He ignores your threat and saunters over to his spot next to Beomgyu, who’s busy doing god knows what with the computer, aggressive keyboard noises filling the room. You have no idea what he’s doing, nor do you try to find out. The most help you can offer to these losers is being their coffee intern.

When you finish handing all of them their drinks, ready to disappear and head off to your own business for the day, Hyunjin’s voice perks up your ears. He announces something to the entire club, eyes glued to his phone like he’d just read something very interesting. “Hey,” he starts. “Apparently Jang Seung is the drummer for the econ department’s band. You know. For the festival next month.”

They all stop doing whatever they’re doing— all heads pivoting to Beomgyu’s corner, who has now stopped typing on the keyboard. 

Beomgyu promptly gets up. He marches over to the couch, near where you’re at, and fishes for his phone from the scattered bags on the cushion. “What are you doing?” asks Yeonjun. “I thought you won’t stop coding until nature starts calling the need for you to piss.” Beomgyu simply waves him off, successfully retrieving his phone. You watch as he taps and scrolls and taps and puts the device up to his ear. 

Everyone is looking at him. There’s a moment of silence before he finally says, “Hyung,” into the phone. You eye him curiously. He meets your gaze— a flicker of a second— before turning his head just a centimeter away. “You still haven’t found a singer and guitarist yet, have you?”

Your eyes widen. Holy shit.

“Cool. I’ll see you later.”

Beomgyu throws his phone back onto the pile. “You’ll be in the band?” you manage to quickly get in before he scuttles off into his station again.

He turns to you. A smile. “Yeah?” he says. “You’re gonna cheer for me again, right?”

“But I thought you said you didn’t want to—” you stop yourself. “Nevermind. I will cheer for you as long as I don’t have to wear an ugly tangerine cosplay again. Why do your department colors have to be orange?”

He laughs. “Wear whatever you want.”

The news finally settles into the rest of the club. “Oh my god. Oh my god, holy shit, fuck, wait— I’ll prepare the posters—” Heeseung frazzles. The rest of the idiots start freaking out too. Jeongin says he’s going to design a lightstick. Jesus christ. Beomgyu’s fanclub has greatly diminished since, well, the issue, but you’re amused to see that his biggest fanboys are still standing strong. You bid the coding club farewell as they prepare for their fanchants on top of having a deadline to catch. 

This changing of his mind just made seeing your friend’s face throughout the following weeks a lot more difficult. He gets home late almost everyday, sometimes not even coming home at all. You know this when there’s no invader unlocking your door and sauntering into your home at 11 p.m. just to complain about how tired he is. But he still texts you often. Too often, and he gets cranky when you don’t text him back even though all he sent is just a photo of his forehead with a sad face emoji, and you’re in the middle of taking notes for a class, and he gives you a call not long after to complain about his grievances out loud.

“Are you ignoring me?” You hear him huff over the phone. You’re on the way to leave campus now. Usually, you’d hitch a ride with Choi Beomgyu, but he’s been occupied lately, so it’s the bus for you today. The sun is setting. The moment you walk past the gates, there’s already a bus waiting for you.

“Cut to the chase,” you gripe, hopping onto the vehicle. “What do you want?

“Free up your schedule tonight,” he demands. Wow. Does he think you’re a pushover? “Band practice is finishing up early because of the Lantern Festival downtown. Let’s go check out the night market.”

“Sure,” you say. “If you’re late again, you have to pay for the equivalent of my wasted time.”

“I won’t be late! I promise, I’m gonna rush out as soon as—”

“Yeah, whatever,” you laugh. “See you later.”

Funny guy. Despite his packed schedule, he still manages to squeeze in some time to hang out with you. Whether it’s by knocking at your door at two in the morning for a sudden drive, or this. On holidays and special occasions. The Lantern Festival is celebrated annually in the city, matching the schedule of your own university’s autumn fest. It’s now early-mid November. You freshened up at your apartment before heading back out once the sun had fully set, waiting under the streams of brightly lit posts downtown. 

You look at Beomgyu’s last text saying that they’re finishing up and he’s gonna head out in a bit. That was twenty minutes ago. You begin counting his debt as you walk down the lantered streets lining the path towards Gwanghwamun Night Market, a thousand won every minute he’s late. There are countless stalls and pop-up bars, pitched up tents selling souvenirs and food and trinkets. There’s a lot of things to keep you busy while you wait for him.

Your eyes catch one particular stand upon closing into the area. On the table and display at the far end of the tent are countless second hand, vintage digicams for cheap. You walk up to it, fiddling with the displays before asking the store owner for his recommendations. He hands you a silver, retro looking camera, the Canon logo stamped on it, with its price tag dangling behind. It’s pretty affordable. You make the purchase, carefully storing it inside your tote bag just in time for your phone to buzz. 

A text from Choi Beomgyu. You whip your head around and stop the moment you see him looking lost amidst the crowded square, brows furrowed as he tries and fails to find you. You feel a laugh bubbling. You respond to his text. [eyes ahead, doofus] He follows your instructions, face brightening the moment he sees you. Beomgyu then quickly jogs up to your spot, a little sweaty and breathless and quite frankly disheveled. “Hey!” he calls out. “Sorry, there was traffic and I had to run away from my bandmates. They wanted to have dinner together, and, uh—”

“Thirty minutes.”

Your flat tone causes him to flinch. He presses his lips together, guilty. 

“I waited for thirty minutes,” you tell him. “You owe me thirty thousand won.”

Beomgyu lets out a grunt and an apology and starts towing you away. “Fine,” he whines. “Let’s eat first. I’m starving.” You let him drag you to the lines and lines of street food stalls, quickly finding something to settle your appetite, and before you know it, he’s scammed you into filling his 30k quota on nothing but snacks.

You realize this just as you and he are standing in front of a stall, sticks of fishcakes in hand and you’ve already half chewn yours. “Cheater!” you exclaim the moment it hits you. “You made me use up all your debt in less than an hour!”

He mocks you with a close-mouthed smile, cheeks still filled with fishcakes and he waves his stick at you, taunting.“Cry about it,” he muses. You roll your eyes. “Why? Did you want me to buy you something? I might consider it if you say it nicely.”

The sounds of nighttime festivities fill your ears. It’s very bright for eight in the evening. You buy another two sticks from the vendor. “Yeah. I do,” you reply, handing one of the sticks to Beomgyu. He takes it and starts nibbling. “I wanted you to buy me a turntable.”

And then he coughs on the fishcake. “The fuck?” he leers at you. You cackle and enjoy your own food without choking on it. “That’s— five times more than thirty fucking thousand won. You don’t even own any records? Wait, where did this even come from, you’ve never been interested in this kind of stuff, what the he—”

“I was joking, doofus,” you roll your eyes, but your lips remain smiling. Smiling because he looks so appalled, it’s funny. He doesn’t share your sentiment— the corners of his mouth downturned into a frown with knitted brows, and you snort at his expression. You throw away the empty sticks, ask the vendor how much you both owe, pay the equivalent, and your eyes wander off to the sound of chatting and laughing passing you by, groups of people funneling into the direction of the stream nearby. “Hey,” you tap on Beomgyu’s arm, before taking the liberty to grab a fistful of his sleeve, tugging him closer. “Let’s go check out what’s going on.“

Beomgyu allows himself to be dragged along by you without much protest into the shuffling crowd. You manage to squeeze into a gap, not even being able to turn your head and check on him when the pace of the crowd pushes you forward, moving further away from the bright and warm stringed lights of the night market, now into a dimmer portion of the area that greets your cheeks with cold brushes of the wind.

The crowd fizzles out near the ledge overhanging the stream, allowing you to patter your steps across the pavement, running up to get a better view of what’s underneath with Beomgyu’s still in tow. On the water, you see a line of intricate floats slowly making their way downstream. Historical arches and buildings, dragons and folklore. You can even see a Doraemon float way back in the line if you squint and the air is knocked out of your lungs, from sheer awe and amazement. It’s so pretty. What catches your attention more is further down, there are people releasing their own orbs of light into the water, and some letting the lanterns loose into the sky. 

“Whoa,” you breathe out. “That’s so cool.”

You feel a nudge on your shoulder. You turn to see Beomgyu, engulfed in the cold evening light, and he cocks his head back into the direction of the market. There you see a tent filled with similar looking lanterns that everyone else was releasing, not too far away with people queuing up in rows. Your head snaps back to Beomgyu, eyes sparkling. He huffs out a smile and leads you to the tent, getting in line to have your own.

“Please wait for any available spots by the table to write your wishes down.”

“Thank you,” you smile at the stall attendant, a paper lotus lantern in hand with Beomgyu right next to you, and you take a spot on the table the moment it becomes vacant. 

It doesn’t take you long to ponder your wish. Good health. A fucking boyfriend. The works. Not that you’re superstitious, but it’s a cute idea. You peer over at Beomgyu, who’s still holding an unopened marker with a thoughtful expression. His brows are furrowed, lips pursed, and all of a sudden, he snaps down and quickly scribbles something you can’t see. Wow. He’s serious about this, you laugh a little. “Are you done?” He jolts, a little surprised before looking up at you.

“Oh, yeah.” Beomgyu sets down the marker, picking up the lantern from the table. “Are you?”

The both of you get off to get your lanterns lit up, and the once pink-tinted paper now burns a warm orange in your hands, toasting up your palms in spite of the cold weather. You head off back to the stream, all the way underneath the overhanging bridge to its shore. Carefully, you crouch down near the water, Beomgyu following your lead, and you look at him, the contours of his face tempered by an almost sunset-like glow amidst the frigid glimmer of the moon all around you.

“Do we just...drop them here?” he asks. You blink. You turn your head to the surface of the shimmering stream as it waits for your burning offering.

“I—I guess so,” you cough out. “Should we count?”

“You’re so lame,” he laughs. You glare at him. “Sure. On three. One—”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The lanterns escape from your grasps at the same time, pulled away from you by the current and the breeze. You watch as the two orange orbs slowly float away above the water, bumping into each other, drifting away from each other for a mere moment before colliding again, and remaining at that same proximity as they both follow the same current, pushed by the same breeze. 

You look at Beomgyu, who watches the two lanterns until they fully escape your line of sight. 

“What did you wish for?” you ask. 

His gaze shifts over to you. It’s heavy. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

“You can’t just ask those kinds of questions,” he jeers, bringing up a hand to your retreating face just to punch your nose. “That’s gonna nullify my wish. Stop trying to sabotage me.”

“I’m not! I was just curious!” You swat his hand away, annoyed. You two are still crouching by the stream, hands resting on your knees. There’s a lot of people around you too, also indulging in the festival tradition. At this point, your lanterns have been completely swallowed by the multitude of other glowing lotuses on the water. You’re pretty sure that the government is just gonna clean it all up come morning and throw them into the dump. So much for lantern wishes. Whimsy destroyed. Romanticism ruined.

Before your nihilism can completely take over, Beomgyu starts speaking again. “The game deadline is nearing,” he suddenly starts. “And the uni autumn festival is like, next week.” For some reason, you can hear a sigh in his voice. Poor idiot. He must be so tired. “I seriously can’t wait for everything to be over. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even been able to drive you home lately.”

You stare at the water. You feel a knot in your throat which you cough out, bumping your shoulder against his before your arms stretch out, fingers locking and elbows hitting your knees to release the tension in your muscles. “I can get home by myself, you know,” you tell him, allowing your hands to hang languidly in the air.

“I know,” he says, reaching out for your pinky finger, a jolt of warmth running down your spine as he plays around with the contours of the joint, tracing down to the tip of the finger when he continues, “It’s getting colder. We should go.”

Beomgyu pulls you up with him when he stands, fully enclosing his hand with yours.

He drives the both of you home that night. First time in a while, and the last time in an even longer while because he gets even busier. Band practice. Club meetings. Game dev contest on top of your also staggering amount of coursework. Most of your time is spent with Minjeong and Sungchan because Heeseung has also been swallowed by work. Poor pathetic guy number two. He deserves all of his misery.

It’s a weekday, and you’re at the library with Minjeong and Hanbin this time. He’s been liberated from coding duty because he has an exam tomorrow. These two have just been formally acquainted with each other, as far as you know, but while taking a bathroom break with Minjeong for a brief moment, she suddenly tells you, “I like him better than Beomgyu.”

You cock a brow at her through the mirror, shaking your wet hands over the sink. “Hanbin? What’s the point of comparison here?”

“Yeah,” she answers, retouching her lip gloss. “He doesn’t make fun of you and he’s less annoying. You should date him instead.”

A laugh leaves your lips. You walk over to dry your hands and once the restroom is relieved from the echoing whirs of the drying machine, you quip back. “Hanbin is nice, but he’s not my type. Just because I want to date doesn’t mean I’m just gonna try it with every decent guy I know,” you nag as you walk out the restroom and back into the library. “And I think he has eyes on someone else. And quit hating on Beomgyu. He annoys everyone he likes. If you think he’s annoying then you’ve fallen into his trap. Congratulations, you and he are friends.”

On the way back to your table, you notice a group of students eyeing you. While passing, you hear one of them whisper. But it’s too loud of a whisper. Like you were meant to hear it.

“I can’t believe she still has the guts to show her face on campus.”

Minjeong stops in her tracks. “The fuck did you just say?”

“Leave it be,” you sigh, tugging your friend away before she starts a cat fight in the library premises. Yeah. You’ve already been branded as a cheating whore. Maybe you should just give up dating altogether.

“Why do you keep letting these fuckers talk shit about you?! Let me at ‘em—”

It’s less of you being a pushover and more of you not wanting to waste energy, really. You’ve gone through this bullcrap in high school (though at a lighter degree). People believe what they want to believe and it doesn’t matter what you tell them. So, why bother. You have a group of nerds plus Minjeong and Sungchan behind your back, anyway. And of course, Choi Beomgyu, who got into a fight with his friends (former friends, he insists) that were involved with the anonymous post issue. The funny thing is, they all apologized to him with their foreheads scraping the ground not even a day after the event, but none of them even bothered trying to receive your forgiveness— until Beomgyu pointed it out and they eventually, reluctantly, came to your feet to mumble out incoherent sorrys.

It’s whatever. The post got taken down, but you still hear some snide remarks here and there like just now. Again, it’s whatever. It’s not gonna stop you from enjoying your uni life. Which is why you’re here, right now, at the uni autumn festival with a trove of nerds who are all arguably vitamin D deficient, all carrying banners and flags with Choi Beomgyu’s name in one way or another, waiting for the Battle of the Bands to start at the campus courtyard.

“Put this on!” Hyunjin shoves a bright, orange bandana into your hands with bold, white text text BAMTORIS 4 BEOMGYU on it. They came up with a fucking fanclub name. Your head rings. The bandana wrinkles in your hand as you shove it into your coat pocket, never to see the light of day.

“Hey, it’s starting!”

The large, heavy speakers boom through the crowd. Indeed, it is starting, and you already can’t wait to go home. But you persist. You’re going home after Choi Beomgyu’s stage. His text said they’ll be performing fourth, after the economics department. You can handle that much noise and chaos. Your social energy needs to last, else you’d have to coax a sulking dog tomorrow for ditching him. The host screams a welcoming spiel into the mic, and everyone else starts screaming. You wince. Yeah, you can deal with this.

When the performances started, you were actually able to vibe a little with the music. Having Heeseung shaking you around and screaming lyrics into your ear does help a bit. When the third band comes up however, you feel the mood around you shift. The coding club boys are so much louder now. No, they’re not cheering. They’re hell bent on sending an overpowering amount of boos and jeers at Jang Seung the moment he got up on stage.

The guy was so flustered at the non-cheers that he was offbeat for half the song. You’re thoroughly enjoying this. Heeseing continues yelling different iterations of, “Get off the stage! You suck!” until Jang Seung finally does with his bandmates drilling dirty looks at him. You laugh. Absolutely deserved.

The boys’ jeers shift again the moment the host calls out the ICT department onstage. They start cheering. Very loudly. Ferally, almost. You see Beomgyu walk his way into the center, electric guitar hanging from his neck as the lights focus on him. You hear nothing but yelling. Jesus fucking christ. It’s an assault at all fronts with Heeseung, Yeonjun, Jeongin, and Hyunjin surrounding you. Maybe...maybe you shouldn’t have joined these damned nerds.

It hushes down when Beomgyu grabs the mic to give an introduction of the band. Heeseung is still screeching, though. You grow concerned.

“Anyway, sing and dance along if you know the lyrics.”

Beomgyu’s hands grip the microphone as you hear his voice continue through the speakers, staring down at the crowd as if he’s looking for something. Then his eyes land on you. You’re taken aback for a moment. Just a moment, because you manage a smile. Good luck, you mouth, hands cupping your lips. 

He smiles back. “This song— is you.”

The instrumental is familiar. A guitar sings. Drum beats crash. You’ve heard this numerous times from Beomgyu’s playlist before. In his car. Along the streets. On the floor of his apartment at three in the morning after he called you out to do nothing in particular until you fall asleep on the couch. Then his voice resonates in the night, carried by the still familiar melody and you feel your heart thump along with the bass vibrating from the speakers. 

Time and time again, Choi Beomgyu proves to you that he’s always meant for the spotlight. He belongs there, to receive all the attention and adoration of everyone that catches sight of him. Seeing him up there brings an unconscious smile on your face. That is until you feel Heeseung shove his shoulder against you, prying your attention away from the blinding stage lights to the dim glow of your friend’s lightstick. “Hey, lovergirl,” he says, grinning widely. “He says he’s nothing without you.”

“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes, cheeks stretched by a flurry of heat. “It’s just a song.”

It’s over before you know it. You were able to snag a few shots of your friend at the near end there as per his request for his Instagram feed, but your plan to run away after their performance is ruined because the boys have decided to hold you hostage because, “There’s no way you’re missing tonight’s celebration!” as if the winners have already been announced. There’s like three bands left. Tonight, you suffer.

Still, your waiting and leg aches for standing too long aren’t wasted because when the winners are indeed announced, the ICT department are called as the victors, and the rest of the night is a blur of hoots and yells and many, many bars and clubs all throughout the city. 

Unfortunately for you, this is only the start of your series of night outs leading up to the end of the year. 

After finals, Sungchan dragged you and Minjeong out for another night out to celebrate. When TXT Inc. announced the winners for their game development competition not long after, you’re dragged to another night out since the boys managed to scrape by 3rd place and save their club from the threat of administrative shut-down.

You’re exhausted. Absolutely drained. You sleep the entire car ride home to Daegu with Beomgyu, recharging just enough for the joint Christmas eve dinner with your family and his. Your friend manages to notice your pitiful state and saves you from conversations by answering questions from the parents on your behalf over the meal.

“Ah, I heard from our daughter that you performed at your festival last month? Oh, how was it? You used to sing and dance during our village Christmas parties all the time when you were still in elementary school.”

“He was trying so hard to look cool, dad.” Regardless of your exhaustion, your system always has enough energy to jump at the opportunity to make fun of him. 

Beomgyu glares at you from across the table, and you feel a kick from underneath. “I was cool. We won, if you forgot. Just so you know, I only joined to put that Jang Seung back in his—” You kick him back. Beomgyu jolts, eyes widen. Oops, he sends you an apologetic look. You send him a silent warning in return.

“Who’s Jang Seung?” his mother asks, curious.

“Some annoying guy from our department. He likes to think he’s cooler than me and I needed to give him a reminder,” Beomyu responds. You release a silent sigh and sip on your drink. “Which I am. Proven by my victory during the competition.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

“Auntie! She’s being mean again!”

By the time you reach your apartment building, the clock at around eleven at night, you are barely alive. The rest are walking ahead of you. You are but a bamboo stick getting brushed along by the wind and Choi Beomgyu’s stops you from falling face flat into the floor because you bump into him.

“Idiot,” he scolds, balancing you by the shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s go. I’ll be your navigator up the stairs, you withering stick of bamboo.”

“Wait,” you protest (verbally, because you have no strength left in your body and could not physically stand your ground). Beomgyu eyes you, halting from bodying you all the way up the apartment. You look over his shoulder to yell at your parents up ahead. “You go in first! I’m gonna talk to Beomgyu for a sec!”

“It’s late,” your mom narrows her eyes at you. “Can’t you two talk tomorrow?”

“It’s—it’s important,” you stammer. You look at Beomgyu. He raises a brow, confused and suspicious.

You step on his foot. He gapes his mouth and lets out a silent swear. You make a face. He makes a face back before letting out a defeated grunt, spinning his heels to confirm your initial sentiments. “We won’t be long. Mom, you can toss the keys to me. I’ll lock up.”

Not long after, you and Choi Beomgyu are left alone at the foot of your apartment building. He stuffs his apartment keys into his pockets, swirling around to look at you with a face stoned by disapproval. “What is it?” he gnaws. “You’re about to pass out any second. What could be more important than getting some sleep right now?”

You ignore his nagging. “Come to the playground with me,” is your unrelated response. His face jitters— disapproval churning into a shock of anxiety, but he attempts to brush it off.

“You’re not gonna ask me to do something along the lines of pretending like we don’t know each other, righ—”

“No! Fuck off! I’ll go alone if you don’t want to.”

“I’m coming,” he sternly says, trailing behind your heated steps to a corner of the apartment square, on the way to the playground at the back of the building. “At least tell me what you want to talk about first.”

“It’s—it’s nothing bad.”

“You’re being suspicious.”

“I’m not!”

Your foot stomps over the dirt of the playground, pressing your lips together as you scramble out your phone to check the time. 11:13 p.m. Dammit. Your coat pocket feels heavy, the thing inside snuggled deep and concealed. How do you distract him for forty-seven more minutes? He’s already yawning. Your eyes flicker around— the spring riders catching your attention first. “Come here,” you say stiffly, just as mechanically hopping onto what you assume is a duck on the spring. 

Beomgyu is evidently weirded out by you, but he follows you anyway, unquestioning whenever you lead him from one equipment and ride in the playground to the next— the swings, spinners, monkey bars, tubes, slides, even the fucking climbers that probably can’t handle your weight. It’s not the most appropriate age and weather to be doing this, but you needed something to kill the time.

The only thing left untouched are the seesaws. It’s 11:55. God damn it. You’ve been willfully avoiding this contraption in case it reawakens your moment of shame and weakness, but having been caught in the pattern you’ve started, Beomgyu is already plopping down on one of the ends.

You bite your tongue. You follow and take your spot on the other end, quiet. The both of you see and saw in silence, most likely carrying the same thing in your minds.

The moment your feet hit the ground again, you stay there. You flip open your phone. Three more minutes. Beomgyu springs you up in the air. You’re brought back down.

“Whatever you’re planning on saying—” he starts, from above. “Don’t say it.”

“It’s not what you think!” you argue. Two more minutes. “Stop moving. Hold on a sec.”

You and Beomgyu are on both ends, both on the ground. One more minute. He eyes you suspiciously, maybe even nervously and you don’t blame him. You dig into your coat pocket, feeling the crumple of the smooth fabric of the pouch you pocketed before leaving for dinner earlier, the item hard in your hand.

“Choi Beomgyu, you’ve been working hard all semester.” Your phone alarm rings. Fucking finally. You pull the pouch out of your pocket. “I thought maybe you deserve a treat.”

You toss it at him. He lets go of the seesaw handle to catch it.

“Merry Christmas, fuckface.”

The pouch lands in his hands. He just stares at it for a moment, eyes wide in surprise and your heart rattles. Why are you nervous right now? You begin to palpitate even further when he actually pulls the strings open, revealing the vintage digicam you bought during the lantern festival. From the moment you saw the stall, you knew the sentimental idiot would like one of these. It’s been waiting in your drawer for this occasion. You start to feel even more self conscious every second he takes to examine it.

“I—I know it’s a bit cheap,” you stammer. “But I already spent so much money on your birthday gift, so don’t you even dare—”

Click!

You look up to see the camera in front of Beomgyu’s face. You blink. He puts it down, tinkering with the buttons with a smile on his face. “I like it,” he says, flashing his eyes at you. “It’s pretty.”

Without a second to waste, you jump off the fucking seesaw and Choi Beomgyu’s ass lands on the ground. “Hey, delete that!”

“Nuh-uh! No way!” he fends you off, swatting away your hands as you straddle him on the dirt ground. “You gave it to me so this is mine! I can do whatever I want with it!”

“My portrait rights! You’re violating the law!”

“Ow! That hu— owww! Fine! Okay, fine—”

It’s Christmas, and the both of you are on the dusty ground of your apartment complex’s playground, a little breathless from squabbling. Beomgyu has one forearm shielding himself from your attacks, the other keeping the camera safe to his chest.

“I’ll delete it! I’ll delete it on one condition.”

You slump back, already tired. “What?” you wheeze. 

He grunts and picks himself up, dusting his clothes and you follow not long after once you’ve caught your breath. “Come to my place for a sec.”

This time, you’re the one eyeing him with suspicion. Still, he humored you tonight, so you shall humor him too. You follow him into the building, up the flights of stairs until you reach your floor. Beomgyu grumbles out a few swears under his breath as he puts more effort than necessary to unlock the door to his place. “Need a little help doing simple movements there, buddy?”

“Shut your mouth,” he grunts, finally managing to unlock it. 

Their festive living room greets you upon entry. The rug is different from what you remember. The curtains shielding the interior from the moonlight have gingerbreads and snowmen on them. Beomgyu leads you up to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, painted with tinsel and ornaments and stars. He sits down on the carpet, patting on the spot next to him without looking at you and you gingerly cross your legs down. He digs into the mix of real and fake gift boxes for decoration. You know because some have names, some are blank.

“I didn’t expect you to throw me a gift right at midnight. That was an unprompted attack.” He finally leans back with a pretty big box in hand, setting it down on the floor right in front of you. “Still. I refuse to lose. Here.”

There’s a name on it. Yours. From your pretty and handsome and amazing most favorite person, Choi Beomgyu. You snort.

“Open it,” he nudges.

“Now?”

“Duh.”

He’s annoying, but you let him off. Carefully, you unwrap the ribbon, a pang of nervous anticipation hitting your bones as your hands hover over the box lid. 

You open the present.

You see the gift.

Your hands instinctively jerk back down to fucking close it.

“Choi Beomgyu! I said it was a joke! Why would you—” you hiss out, a quiet scream as you throw your head around to look at him, only for the words to fizzle out your throat upon seeing the expectant look on his face. His eyes are big and sparkly and looking at you with so much expectation. Your face grows hot, the burn even more palpable amidst the December weather, and you suck in a deep breath, looking down in acceptance and defeat. “A fucking turntable. You’re insane. Why would you get me this? You said it yourself that I don’t even own any records or LPs or whatever you use for this. What’s wrong with you?”

“You said you wanted one.” He’s grinning. He’s grinning very proudly. “Merry Christmas, dipshit. Now, we’re even.”

Ah. God damn it. He really is insane.

“He got you a what?”

Within the last week of December, you and Beomgyu return back to Seoul. There’s some crap to do at uni regarding your scheduling and classes, and Jung Sungchan is throwing yet another party to celebrate the incoming new year. Not at his parent’s place this time because he got an earful after the previous party. He’s hosting it in his apartment, so the invitation list is smaller. More bearable, because you and Minjeong are forced to attend again. 

“Girl, you don’t even own any records.” Minejeong’s head pops up from the other side of the clothes rack, looking both appalled and amazed from the information she’d just received from you. “Have you even used it yet?”

“No!” you remark in response. “The thing has been catching dust in my apartment and I’m starting to feel bad. Is it okay if we stop by a record store after this?”

Which is why you and she are out shopping right now to buy a cute new year’s outfit to match Sungchan’s black and gold party theme. You don’t understand why he has to have a theme, but it’s a good excuse to treat yourself to some new clothes. You and your friend have been thrifting and boutique hopping, spending a good chunk of your holiday money for a one-day millionaire spree. 

A few shopping bags in hand, a bell jangles when you push open the door to a vintage record store you saw in passing earlier, in between thrift stores. The scent of rubber, dusty wood, and pressed vinyl hit your senses, along with the dull hum of music from the store’s speakers from the background. You walk in with no plan on what the fuck you should buy, so needless to say you are overwhelmed by the gigantic selection on display.

“Hey, how may I help you?”

The singular employee present in the store has probably noticed your swirling eyeballs trying to take in everything. “Oh, I’m just looking around,” you say with a smile. The store clerk smiles back, telling you to feel free to browse, and you thank him. He’s tall, presumably college-aged with sandy hair, and your mind wanders around the idea that it would be nice to find another part-time job for extra allowance. But your break is almost over. And you’d have to look for somewhere else because it won’t be a great idea to work at Horangnabi again and deal with the rest of the studentry considering your current, uh, reputation.

But you’re not here to dwell on that. You’re here to finally put Choi Beomgyu’s fucking gift to good use. Minjeong stays by the door with her phone while you walk further into the store with the clerk trailing behind you. As you run your hands over a few familiar covers, familiar names and titles, he shoots you a few questions here and there— are you looking for a specific artist? What kind of music do you like? I can give you some recommendations if you’d like? Clearly, there’s something more than customer service going on here. 

As you check out a selection of two records (because holy shit, these are expensive), it dawns on you that it’s almost the end of the year, and you still have yet to find a god damned boyfriend. Granted, you don’t believe doing so will help salvage your image in any way at all, but it kind of sucks to think that you’ll be spending another new year single and lonely.

“Come again any time.”

Well, maybe not too lonely because you won’t have time to think about any nihilistic bullshit at Jung Sungchan’s party. Minjeong scolds you as you walk out the store with a new paper bag and no new number in your contacts. “He was clearly trying to hit on you,” she says.

“He’s not my type,” you deflect back. She clicks her tongue and nags you that every shot you don’t take is a miss, and you simply brush her off with a laugh. But she has a point. Maybe you’re the reason why you’ve been single this entire time. Perhaps the universal false assumption that you and Choi Beomgyu have been dating for the past one-hundred years has nothing to do with it.

Lee Heeseung agrees with this new speculation of yours. “You’re too prickly,” he says over brunch at a local bed-and-breakfast. You and Minjeong meet up with him right after your shopping spree because he just happened to be in the area. “And a little scary. Everyone from the club used to be afraid of you at first because you’re so mean.”

“You nerds are just losers,” Minjeong defends you. 

“Wow. Two bullets in one shot,” you say in between enjoying your bacon, fried rice, and eggs.

“Hey, you have no right to say anything. You’re single too.” Heeseung points his fork at her. “It can’t be helped. This is unsalvageable. It seems like I must share this secret trick I found on TikTok to solve all of your problems.” 

“That source sounds very credible,” you snort.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Heeseung proceeds to explain the secret trick: eat twelve grapes under the table within the minutes passing into the new year, and your wish will be granted. You nearly cough out your brunch. Minjeong bursts out laughing right next to you. You can’t even begin to imagine how Heeseung managed to land himself into that side of the app.

“Incredible,” she chortles out. “What do you plan on wishing for, Hee? For you to get back together with—”

“No!” he screeches out. “No way. That era of my life is over now. I’m gonna get accepted at HYBE Inc. for my fucking internship.”

“Wow,” you gape, taking a sip from your iced tea. “You’re maturing.”

“Right? This is crazy.”

Heeseung’s outburst melts down, and the redness slowly starts seeping out from his cheeks. He looks at you, a little proud and rubs a finger under his nose with a grin. “Heh. It’s nothing.”

“You’ve got some rice on your face, Mr. Maturity.” You hear an ‘oh shit,’ from across the table as you look down to your lit up phone from a message notification coming in. Your eyes narrow, letting your utensils clatter on your plate to make a few taps on the phone screen. “You asked Beomgyu to come?” you ask, looking back up at Heeseung. “Why is the idiot telling me he’s on the way here?”

Specifically, it was a shot of him from the eyes up and a bus ceiling with [omw 2 u 🛵🛵] plastered on his forehead. “Oh, he’s coming?” Heeseung responds, unsurprised. “He asked if I wanted to hit the PC room with him. I told him I’m still with you two and sent him my location.”

“Ah, fuck me. Now I have to change seats.” You watch in slight confusion as Minjeong pushes her food over to Heeseung’s side of the table before following suit, leaving the space next to you cold and barren and empty, and your look of confusion muddles into betrayal. “Hey, don’t give me that look. Beomgyu always follows you around like a puppy with severe attachment issues and I don’t really want to be caught in between the both of you.”

“He does not!” you defend, your fist bouncing on the table with a clatter, just in time for your eyes to flicker off to the direction of the restaurant door opening, welcoming a Choi Beomgyu, who’s whipping his head around to look for you three, inside.

“Hey, dude, over here!”

Unfortunately, he proves Minjeong correct. Beomgyu turns his head to you at the recognition of Heeseung’s voice, blank face shifting into an easy smile. His next set of movements are programmed right into his system: he walks up to you, he plops down right next you, and he dips his head down to take a long sip from your iced tea, right before releasing a refreshed lip-smack and sigh with his shit-eating grin, directed right at you. “Thanks for the treat.” His hand meets the top of your head, utterly ruining your hair. 

“Fuck off. No one even invited you here.” You wrestle him off with your elbow. Beomgyu retreats by letting his arm stretch behind your back, causing the cushion of the booth seats to sink down while he calls a waiter for the menu. You feel your throat dry. You reach for the ice tea Choi Beomgyu just drank a third of to rinse down the dryness. Minjeong’s eyes are on you. Heeseung is pressing his mouth together, and his face is pissing you off.

“Do you want me to find another table then? I see you’re almost done with your meals.” The bitch is trying to play victim. You give him a look of aversion. He’s unfazed, looking at Heeseung with a subtle quirk of his lips inching towards victory, because the latter took his bait.

“I’m ordering another meal,” Heeseung announces. “You. Sit. We’re hitting the PC room after this.”

“Sure thing.” All you can do is sigh while Beomgyu sticks his tongue out at you. “Quit grumbling,” he snarks. “And quit acting like you don’t want me around. Didn’t you say it yourself? Should I give you a refresher? Ahem, what makes you think I can’t live without—”

“Moving on!” 

Your face is now hot. Beomgyu is still grinning like a bastard, but he doesn’t finish the statement. You can still see the amusement on the corners of his lips even when he leans down to sip from your iced tea again. “I hate being here,” Minjeong breathes out, gulping down the last of her drink before slamming the glass down onto the table.

Beomgyu’s order arrives. “Why are you two so moody today?” He points a pair of chopsticks at Minjeong before stabbing them into his salad. “Did your shopping trip go badly or some shit?”

“For your information, our day was going great until you showed up,” you glare at him.

“Yeah,” Minjeong doubles down. Heeseung’s second meal also arrives. He ignores the squabbles and starts happily digging in. “Our shopping trip was great. You should see the dress she bought for the party. It’s really pretty.”

At that mention, Beomgyu’s head tilts, eyes flickering over to your direction. “Is it?” 

There’s something in the tone of his voice that forces you to swallow something down. “Mind your own business, buster,” you hiss at him. He shrugs and continues eating. “What the hell is Jung Sungchan thinking dress coding a college party, anyway? It’s not like he’d kick me out if I end up wearing bright green.”

“Is the dress you bought bright green?” Beomgyu chimes in. “Now I’m even more curious.”

You look at him, face scrunched up. “If you want to wear my dress, just say so.”

“Hey, I think I’d body it.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

Indeed, no one gets kicked out for wearing the wrong thing. The moment you walk into Jung Sungchan’s blasted apartment, you see red, pink, purple, maroon amidst the gold foil decorations and fuzzy warping lights. No, Choi Beomgyu did not show up in your dress. He’s in a beige wool blazer, white undershirt, and lazy black trousers with a beer can in hand, waiting for your arrival by the door. “Oh, hey.” You do not recall beige being in the goddamned dress code. At least his pants are black and his necklace is gold. “You’re here.”

“I wish I weren’t,” you grunt, wiggling out of your coat because although it’s currently the cold season, Sungchan’s apartment is humid. Though it’s significantly less people than his house party last summer, it’s still thirty people more than to your liking. You grimace, hanging the garment on your forearm. “Where is he? Where’s the host of this shithole?”

You point up your chin, looking around for Sungchan, but to no avail. Maybe he’s at the balcony, but your friend over here isn’t answering you.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” You whip your head back to Beomgyu. He hasn’t left, no. He’s just standing there, a faint buzz tinting his cheeks. You peer at the drink he’s holding. You click your tongue, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

Luckily, he isn’t fully checked out yet. He swats your hand away and clears his throat. “I think he’s on the balcony. C’mon.”

Sungchan greets you with a barreling hug and nearly bulldozes you into the floor because he’s a dramatic bastard who hasn’t seen you since finals week. “Now that you’re here, we can officially start the party!” he yells, as if it hadn’t already started, and drags your limp body back to the living room. Right now, it’s around ten in the evening. Minjeong clocks in not long after you and gets roped into the mess of drinking games happening on Sungchan’s carpeted floor, already a few rounds in.

In between all the yelling and the music and the chants to chug, chug, chug it, Heeseung stands up with a microphone in hand. You have no idea where he got that from, but he has it, and has decided that it would be a great idea to start singing your hearts out. 

“Sing or drink! Sing or drink!”

Yeah, no. You’re downing that fucking shot.

“Boo! You’re no fun!” Heeseung jeers at you. You toss him the now red solo cup with the droplets of whatever the fuck they mixed into that, gagging slightly. The microphone eventually gets snatched by a very drunk Yeonjun, who already got his necktie wrapped around his head. This is a big mess. Yeonjun gets his solo moment. He starts singing Through the Fire by Chaka Khan.

“Yeonjun hyung! Yeonjun hyung!”

“Hyung, why do you have to graduate?!”

“Hyung, I’ll miss you!”

You’re definitely not drunk enough for this. By eleven-thirty, you’re already fucking exhausted, so you ready to escape to the kitchen. A lot of people have left, the ones remaining consisting mostly of Sungchan’s close friends. Minjeong sees you escaping and runs after you. “Going down for a bit. I need some fresh fucking air.”

“Don’t die,” you hum, patting her out the door.

“You don’t die.” She nudges back at the directions of the living room, where the boys are gathered in a sudden emotional huddle. Choi Beomgyu included. The year’s coming to an end. Meaning a few of them are gonna be graduating from uni soon like Yeonjun. You swear you can hear someone wailing. “I don’t want to deal with that. Good luck. Hide safe, soldier.”

She salutes you off, marching out the door. You turn back to look at the mess of the apartment. Sungchan’s prettily hung gold foil have either been ripped off, their remnants tattered on the floor, or barely strewn. There’s still music playing, the bass thrumming through the walls. Cups and plastic and confetti and a few pairs of shoes are scattered all over the floor. You grimace and walk over a wet spot, heading over to the kitchen to help yourself with whatever wine’s still left over.

Pouring yourself a glass, you can’t help but notice what’s left on the moderately sized dining table. Jung Sungchan put an effort to drape it with a pretty sheet of fabric stitched with metallic gold, serving as a bed for the display of various round fruits at the center. A single melon. A bowl of oranges and kiwis beside the bed of green and red apples. You huff out a small laugh, teeth clinking against the rim of the wine glass. Even Jung Sungchan is a little superstitious. You’ve heard about the round fruits for good luck on new year’s before. It’s a miracle none of these were massacred. Save maybe for the half-eaten apple abandoned right by the sink.

Your eyes notice the package of untouched shine muscat grapes sitting soundly on the table, still covered in plastic wrap. You check the time on your phone. 11:45 p.m. Heeseung’s dumb voice echoes in your brain. Twelve grapes. Wishes. Good luck. Superstitions. God, this shit has been haunting you since November.

“Hyung! Promise me you’ll still visit the club even after you graduate, okay? Promise that you’ll—”

“Dude, you have to learn to let go! If you love someone, let them go!”

“No! I don’t want to let Yeonjun hyung go!”

Still. Just like the paper lanterns last month. Just like the damned alarm you have on your phone that rings every night when the clock strikes eleven-eleven, you find yourself falling for this bullshit again.

This is fine, right? No harm in humoring the teeniest-tiniest possibility that these affirmations will hold true? Before you know it, you have the grapes in your person, the tablecloth flung open for a glimpse of a second, and ten minutes before the new year, a singular thought runs laps inside the pitch darkness of your head in the form of the question— can you get any more fucking pathetic?

“What...what the hell are you doing?”

You wince, light leaking into your safe space under the dining table, at the same time as the intrusion of Choi Beomgyu’s voice. You look up at him. He has peeled back the tablecloth— your cover— and honestly you’re not even offended by the look of pure and absolute judgment littering his face right now. You’re judging yourself too for listening to Heeseung’s fucking stupid trick, crawling underneath the table at new year’s party for god’s sake, sitting on a dirty ass floor, a bowl of grapes on your lap, a glass of wine next to your folded up legs, and an expression not befitting the holiday spirit because you’re looking up at him like you want to die.

“I’m—I’m manifesting,” you say petulantly with a squeak, cheeks burning and refusing to explain any further for the sake of your shame and pride. It’s eleven-fifty. You hope he’d politely fuck off before midnight so you can do your business in peace.

Your eyes should be sending the message right now. Beomgyu continues to stare at you with a less than amused expression, a contemplative pause that you hope is a sign that he’s going to leave you alone. But, no. Your message does not come across because Beomgyu decides to plop down, cross-legged, right in front of you. 

“That doesn’t explain anything,” he says. Why can’t he just mind his own business? He should leave you and your grapes alone. “Sungchan’s looking for you and before I left the living room, he picked up a megaphone. Tell me what you’re scheming or else I’ll rat you out.”

“You, bitch!”

Eleven fifty-five. Shit. Choi Beomgyu doesn’t seem like he’s going to budge any time soon. His lips are pursed and he’s got the base of his palm holding up his chin. You bite down your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, taking in a sharp inhale before airing out your pathetic desperation in its rawest form.

“Like I said. I’m manifesting.”

His eyes narrow, brows furrowed. “Manifesting what exactly.”

“A fucking boyfriend.”

Whatever. Fuck it. He can make fun of you all he wants.

“Heeseung said if you eat twelve grapes from eleven fifty-nine to twelve o’one on new year’s, your wish will be granted. I—I—I looked it up because it sounded stupid, but—” You pause. You take a half a second glance at Beomgyu’s expression and decide that you are unable to look him in the eye. “Listen, Beomgyu, I’m desperate. I’m grasping at the straws here. I’m sick and tired of being single and misunderstood by all those damned fucking rumors and I know you’re nowhere near responsible, but I’m very annoyed right now, okay? So, if you’re just gonna make fun of me, please leave because there’s only, like three minutes left before twelve, and I really don’t want you deliberately ruining my chances this time, Choi Beomgyu.”

You breathe in. That. That took you an entire minute to say. Maybe you drank a little too much. Maybe you were rattling on like a maniac just now, but you can’t quite decipher Beomgyu’s reaction to your insanity. 

Is he judging you? Is he weirded out? Pitying you? Because you sure are pitying yourself right now, but you don’t fucking know because all he’s doing is looking at you dead in the eye, face unmoving, totally blank expression, and you gulp. What the hell is he getting at?

Two minutes left. You hear the premature hiss of fireworks outside. “Scoot over,” he finally says. “I can’t believe you’re doing something stupid by yourself and leaving me out.”

“Wh—what are you doing?!”

The tablecloth falls. Your vision is darkened. Choi Beomygyu is wedged right next to you underneath Sungchan’s dining table, on the dirty kitchen floor of his apartment, two minutes before the start of a new year. A new point in history. And here you are, with your friend of over twenty years who’s plucked a shiny green grape from the stem, rolling it between his fingers with an unsure look. “Twelve? We have to eat twelve of these?”

“You don’t have to do it if you’re just gonna make fun—”

Beomgyu pops the grape into his mouth. 

“How many minutes do we have again?”

You pause a little, staring into space before coughing out, “Th—three.” You put a handful of grapes into the cup of your palm to toss it all in there in one shot. It’s twelve fifty-fine. “Three minutes. Starting now.”

“Got it.”

Now, you can’t even begin to fathom the absurdity of this scene. You can hear the boys making a ruckus from the other room, yelling into the megaphone, counting down while you continue to shovel the fruit into your mouth. Eight. You have eight left. 

“Woohoo! Happy new year!”

Fireworks are bursting, music is blaring.

“Six! Five!”

Four. Four grapes left in your hands. The juice spurts into your mouth. You glance up at Beomgyu. His brows are knitted together, counting the remaining grapes he has to swallow down before the time is up. 

“Two!”

You seriously can’t believe you two are doing this. You’re about to choke, stuffing the remaining grapes into your cheeks and god forbid your obituary say that you died asphyxiating on round fruit on December 31, 11:59 p.m. Seriously. How did you get so pathetic? You swallow down the last bit of fruit while the rest of your friends are having fun outside. So single, so desperate, so pathetic. You’re never gonna eat another grape again.

“One!”

And the thought hits you 

“Happy new year!”

If you’re so single, so desperate, and so pathetic, then—

“Done!”

Beomgyu’s sudden voice causes you to jump and bump your head against the table. His eyes widen, and firm hands clasp your shoulders to pull you in. “Sorry, are you okay?” he sputters out, little panicked while one hand travels up to the top of your head— where he’d usually ruffle, tousle to ruin your hair and annoy you, but this time Beomgyu’s touch is gentle, checking to see if he’s caused any damage, while your face remains pushed down, eyes trained on the ground where your tight knuckles are pressed into. 

The fireworks haven’t stopped. There’s still a lot of noise outside, but Beomgyu’s soft voice manages to ripple through everything you hear. 

“Nothing hurts, right? You’re good?” 

He guides you to look at him, hands gingerly placed on the sides of your head, and you can feel his index fingers grazing the helix of your ears. You look at him. His former blank, judgemental stare softened with a concern that almost sounds like he’s carrying the weight of the whole universe on his shoulders, as if accidentally causing you to bump your head against the table would endanger the fate of the world.

You’re so single, so desperate, so pathetic, and also so, so stupid because why did you even waste your wishes on that paper lantern, those twelve grapes, and all the countless eleven-elevens these past months when the answer to your wish has been right in fucking front of you this entire time?

“At this point, we should just start dating.”

You gasp.

You cover your mouth, jolting up. Your voice was a little louder than you thought, and your heart sinks down into your stomach as you try to focus your rattled gaze at Beomgyu— at his face, his expression, but you don’t get to do any of that. You don’t get to laugh it off, take it back, say it was just a joke. A joke. Because just as when you open your mouth, the words threatening to jump out of your throat—

“You’re right.”

Beomgyu says something first, and none of it comes out.

“We should just do that.”

You’re not sure what you’re feeling, but it’s like your heart that got dropped right into the pits of your stomach just burst into a million, fluttering pieces.

Your breathing is ragged. Your eyes flit back up to Beomgyu. Your face flushes. Why isn’t he laughing? Why isn’t he saying it’s just a joke?

“Jesus christ—! There you two are! What the hell are you doing— oh my god, were you hooking up under the table?!”

“It’s new year’s, baby! Everyone, get crazy!”

You can’t feel your legs. You’re fished out from down there and into the mess of noises and singing and firecrackers bursting and you never get to clarify anything to Beomgyu, because he’s tugged along by Heeseung and Hyunjin for a group photo with the boys, and Sungchan and Minjeong are asking you a million questions that you can’t hear over the unfamiliar sound of your heartbeat. What...what is this? What the fuck is going on?

“Don’t tell me you actually did Heeseung’s stupid fucking trick.” 

And then it hits you.

Butterflies. There are butterflies in your stomach.

This cannot be normal. You douse them all dead with a shitload of alcohol. 

“Whoa, holy shit, that was half the bottle!”

That ought to kill the fluttering and buzzing insects. Only temporarily because the next morning, you’re hit with a different kind of buzzing.

Your head is ringing— buzzing— brain fuzzy, and when you open your eyes, you’re no longer in the mess of Jung Sungchan’s apartment. You’re in yours. In your bed. Still wearing your dress from last night under the covers. You have no idea how you got here. 

It takes a moment for your mind to settle. You groan, vision swaying when you lean over to the bedside desk to feel around for your phone. You don’t feel it. But you do feel your purse that has your phone in it. What the fuck. Seriously, how did you get home? When you turn it on, you see on your lock screen message notifications from Heeseung and Sungchan, asking if you got home safe, pictures from last night. Some of the events caught on camera, you remember happening. Some, you definitely don’t remember happening and you grow all the more concerned.

One text in particular pulls in the only memory you need to remember, though. It’s from Minjeong, saying [choi beomgyu hauled your ass home in case you’re wondering btw HAHAHHAHA i never saw you drink that much before. jesus christ].

And you freeze, the blood draining from your face as you recall just what happened during the new year’s countdown.

You might have asked out your friend of twenty years.

And he might have said yes.

Your face drops into the plush of your pillow, lurching over to let out a long, distressed scream. That fucking grape trick was more effective than you hoped. Instantaneous. Heeseung should’ve warned you of its effects, what the fuck. Your moment is ruined by the sound of dull knocking, which you can locate coming all the way from your front door. 

You pause, face still muffled into your pillow. The knocking is followed by a short pause. Then the sound of your door code beeping. Then your door unlocking.

Motherfucker, shit, fucking crap.

You throw your covers over yourself. You’re buried underneath. Choi Beomgyu can’t hurt you from down here. Maybe. God damn it, you don’t know what to do, you haven’t had the chance to think yet. The sound of footsteps from outside your room causes you to jitter. It’s still pretty far off, shuffling into the kitchen, you think, and they stop for a moment. Cupboards draw open. The sink turns on then stops. Footsteps resume. They enter your open bedroom door and you bite down a swear. Fuck it all, you’re so fucking fucked.

The desk chair behind you is pulled out, the sound of its legs screeching against the floorboards, ending with a quiet clatter. You hear a second clunk. Then the voice of someone sitting right behind your curled up and pathetic, vulnerable frame.

“I know you’re awake.”

Fuck. Fuck everything.

“C’mon, get up. It’s past two in the afternoon. I can’t believe I woke up earlier than you.”

Begrudgingly, you peel yourself out from under the covers, and just as hesitantly turn yourself around to face the face you aren’t quite ready to see at the moment with squinting eyes from the bright sunlight. You hear Beomgyu let out a sigh. “You drank way too much last night. Or this morning. Whatever.” Instead of looking directly at his face, you choose to look at whatever he’s brought to your desk instead. A tray. A tray with oatmeal, aspirin, and a glass of water. Your stomach is starting to act up again. You’re not sure if it’s whatever the fuck you drank last night, or something else. “How’s your head?”

Not well, thank you very much. You can’t even manage to verbalize your comeback. Shit, just how much have you fallen after just one slip-up. Why isn’t he bringing it up anyway? Why is he acting so normal? You grunt as you sit up from your bed, head still ringing as the aftermath of last night, and set the tray right onto your lap.

You drink your water, eat your meal, and take your medicine in silence. Beomgyu doesn’t do anything to bother you. All he does is watch you with steady eyes, gaze following the movements of your hand especially when you bring the water to your lips, leaned slightly forward as if he’s ready to jump in in case you drop it because your hands are shaking a little. 

Thankfully, you don’t do that. When everything’s done, Beomgyu gets up and ducks down to get the tray off your lap, and— much to the demise of your entire nervous system— you’re forced to look at his face in such a close proximity, that you hiccup and jump back into the headboard.

Beomgyu turns up to look at you, still hunched over you. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Th—thanks?”

His eyes are fixed. His nose scrunches a little before setting the tray back down and returning to his seat. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you, asshole,” you correct, getting riled up. He’s fucking smiling. Seriously, why is he being so normal? “Now, leave. I’m gonna wash up so I look less like shit.”

“Sure,” he laughs. “I’ll come get you at around four?”

You look up. “Why?”

“To take some pretty photos around the city.” He’s up again, tray in his hands to return to the kitchen. 

“Why?” you continue to squint at him.

“Why not? I didn’t bring the camera at the party because some of the guys might’ve used it as a ping pong ball, so I wasn’t able to take any photos for the new year. But it’s still the first day of the year today. Let’s go make the most out of it.”

Cheesy as hell, but you’re already all dressed and ready to go out when he barges into your apartment again. He makes an impressed holler upon seeing you, saying that you look like a human being again, and you land a kick on his shin before locking up your door, Choi Beomgyu trailing behind you with an anguished yelp.

It’s late afternoon, the streets of downtown Seoul are uncharacteristically free. Most are probably still behind the shutters, nursing their post-new year’s hangover. Some are probably back in their hometowns for the holidays. You and Beomgyu trail down the walkway. Your hands are stuffed into your pockets, him holding up the digital camera to his chest while he whips his head around, probably looking for a pretty scene to capture. You laugh, racing up your steps as you walk ahead of him. “Pick up the pace, loser,” you call out, turning half-around to provoke him with a snicker.

Your lips quirk just in time for the sound of a click to stop your backwards walk. Beomgyu has the camera up to his face. He puts it down, grinning. 

“Hey!” You’ve halted in your steps, stomping down a single foot. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Like I said.” Beomgyu hums and looks down at the shot he just took, a satisfied look on his face upon inspection before flicking his eyes back up to you. “Taking pretty photos. Let’s go near the crosswalk. I think a shot would be nice there.”

You thought you were just going to accompany him on this excursion but somehow, you got roped into being a subject in the countless photos he’s taking. On the sidewalk. By a tree in the park. In the arcade. In the middle of walking into the facade of a cafe. Most of his shots are taken without warning, causing you to throw a mini-tantrum immediately after the taunting sound of the shutter. But all he does is laugh and shield the camera from you, assuring you that you look fine, that it’s pretty, that you guys should hurry off because the evening is nearing, and you’d just have to huff and and surrender and move on, else he’d notice the warmth on your cheeks and the stirring in your stomach.

“Ah, I want to try the mocha cake.”

“Then order it?”

“Now, I don’t want to because you’re telling me to.”

“You’re ten years old.”

“Nyenye, you’re ten years— hi! We’d like an iced matcha latte, iced americano, and a coffee mocha cake, please. Dine in, yes. Thanks.”

The things he’s always done that seemed so, so natural that you never even put a second thought to them suddenly linger in the forefront of your thoughts. The way he puts his lips on your straw even though you know he hates matcha just to annoy you. The way your hands rest on the table, his fingers tapping on your knuckles while droning on a rant about some game you don’t even know the name of. The way he naturally brushes a crumb off your face, shares a dessert with you, holds up the last bit of cake and icing on the fork in front of your mouth for you to have. Really, nothing has changed. Nothing has, but it feels like your entire life just got turned upside down thanks to the event of last night— of which neither of you are even addressing.

You still show up to each other’s places unannounced. You still go to 7-Eleven ice cream runs at three in the morning. You still shove your face into his arm while watching horror movies and screaming bloody murder, but nothing happens beyond that. 

Not once have you brought up the conversation you had under the table at the strike of the new year. Not even after a month has passed since then. 

It’s now the beginning of February, and you’re on campus to register for your classes next month. While there, you’re forced into the coding club room by the pest named Lee Heeseung. He rattles into your ear on the way there, talking about how they’re currently polishing the game they submitted to TXT Inc. (Which won. He never fails to emphasize that). When you get there, you’re jumped by three more boys wanting you to try out the said winning game. 

“C’mon, just give it a shot!” Hyunjin bulldozes you into the computer corner.

“We’ll walk you through!” Yeonjun chimes in right after. 

“I’m not— I’m not interested in your—” Jeongin sits you down on the seat. Heeseung is covering your path to escape. Yeonjun and Hyunjin are on the other side. God damn it. Where’s Hanbin? Where’s the only normal person here? Heeseung is messing with keyboard and mouse, the screen immediately loading, and you’re greeted by what appears to be a first person shooter game that honestly looks...pretty good? Wow. They actually worked hard on this. 

“What are you guys doing?”

All five of you turn your heads back to the door. It’s Beomgyu. He’s got a backpack on him, which he tosses off to the sofa before walking up to your huddle. “Great! You’re here!” Hyunjin welcomes him in. Beomgyu finds a spot in between Heeseung and Jeongin, curious eyes glancing down at you. “We’re trying to get her to play our game!”

“Oh?” Beomgyu hums, leaning down against the back of your chair. “Sounds fun. Go ahead. I want to see this too.”

Do they enjoy fucking with you this much? Is this their favorite hobby? For some reason, clicking start is making you more nervous than you expected. Your hand is literally shaking on the mouse and you can hear Heeseung snorting at the way your other hand is positioned on the keyboard. “I hate all of you,” you announce, the stage loading. “I really hate all of you.”

“This is gonna be fun,” Jeongin assures from behind you. “The controls are simple. You just—”

“No, let her figure things out by herself.”

“Okay, it’s start—”

“Go, go, go! Run! Start shooting!”

“What?! Shoot what?!”

“The enemies! No, no, you’re going the wrong way don’t—”

“What is this?! What’s going on?!”

“Oh my god, this is hilarious.”

“Am I dead? Is it over?”

“Dude,” Heeseung lurches over, laughing and wheezing. “You’re so bad. You suck.”

Beomgyu is also laughing with them. You give him a side-eye. He immediately shuts up, clearing his throat, but obviously still smiling in avid amusement. “Let’s try that again,” he says. “I’ll help you this time.”

He cracks his knuckles, teiling Jeongin to scoot over so he’s the one directly behind you now. No, you don’t want to try again. You start turning around, but are immediately stopped with a quiet squeak because Beomgyu leans forward, pushing the office chair further into the desk, and you stiffen when his arms stretch out to cage you in. “What—what are you doing?” you sputter. 

“These guys aren’t gonna leave you alone until you finish a level,” he simply says. His hands rest over yours on the keyboard, on the mouse. He’s pressed up against your upper back, your shoulders. He’s way too fucking close. 

“Awh. This is way less fun.”

At this point, your eyes aren’t even registering the screen, and Beomgyu is basically playing the game himself. The shooting noises and fighting sounds from the speakers run dull. Dizzy. You feel dizzy. “Nice! Good job,” he says. His low voice is a rumble right into your ears. “Hey, you’re doing it. Nice shot.”

You shoot up, nearly headbutting him in the process.

“What’s up?”

“Restroom,” you squeak out. “I need to go to the restroom.”

The cold splash of water against your face is very effective. You’re at the restroom, hands gripping the edges of the sink as you stare at your drenched face at the mirror. There are things that you can’t ignore anymore. You two should address what’s up as soon as possible. Otherwise, you’re going to go insane.

“Choi Beomgyu.”

Not now, though. You...you just haven’t gathered enough courage yet to talk to him about it yet.

“Pass me the pillow.”

Right now, you’re on your living room floor, the aftermath of your takeout lunch on the coffee table, and Beomgyu grabs a cushion from behind him on the couch and pats it down onto your laps, eyes glued to your laptop screen, a dog grooming YouTube video playing.

There’s still a little bit less than a month before the semester starts. Beomgyu is supposed to leave for Daegu in a bit. The Chois have a family event back home, and they invited you as well, but you promised to accompany Jung Sungchan for a seminar later this afternoon, so you had to decline. Beomgyu’s brother is in the city, so he doesn’t have to drive or commute all the way there. He’s gonna get picked up in like, thirty minutes, so he decided to wait around and loiter at your place for the time being.

The entire time he’s been here, seemingly unbothered and unchanged even after the new year’s thing, you’ve been trying to get your shit together and just clear the air. What the fuck are you two now? Does he even remember what happened? Or is he just trying to sweep it under the rug? Is he overthinking about it just as much as you are right now? What the hell is going on?

“What are you thinking about?”

The video he’s watching has ended. His attention is now completely on you.

“Uh,” you stammer. “Yeon—Yeonjun seonbae is the only graduating student from the club, right?”

“Ah. Yeah,” he hums in affirmation. He twists his body a bit, crossed-legs slightly turned towards you, and he places an arm on the sofa seat, head resting on the knuckles of his hand. “The guys are planning on throwing a party this weekend to celebrate. To, you know, send him off.”

“He’s probably gonna end up crying again, isn’t he.” You attempt to dissuade your brain for now. 

“Oh, definitely,” he laughs. “We’re gonna set up cameras in the clubroom. He won’t be safe.”

Bzzt bzzt. The both of you look at his vibrating phone on the table, right next to your laptop. Beomgyu grunts in annoyance (and slight back pain), pulling himself up to grab the device. You silently watch while he takes the call. He looks so annoyed. You’d be making fun of him right now if your brain wasn’t in so much of a mess.

“Hyung,” Beomgyu whines into the phone. “What do you mean meet you at the gas station? That’s so inconvenient. Ugh, fine. What time are you gonna be there?” You shoot him a thumbs up. He pushes it down, hand enclosing the back of your fist, and he continues complaining into the phone. “Just text me before you start driving. Yeah, she’s here. Do you wanna say hi?”

He hands you his phone. You clear your throat and put it up to your ear with your free hand. “Hi, hyung, how have you been? Yeah, he’s at my place again. A freeloader— exactly!” Beomgyu squeezes your knuckles at that remark, visibly pouting and offended. You brush him off. “Ah, yeah. Sorry I can’t join you guys. Maybe next time, I’ll be able to—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Beomgyu snatches the phone back. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll wait for you there. Bye, hyung. Later.”

The end of the call signals that you two should maybe start cleaning up. You throw out the boxes, wash the dishes and cups you used and tidy up the living room floor and couch. Beomgyu is grumbling the entire time, asking if you really have to attend the stupid seminar later. “I’m not gonna flake on my friends, Beomgyu.” You lean against the doorway with your arms crossed, seeing him out. He frowns. “You’re gonna be gone for three days right?” 

“Yeah,” he responds, audibly deflated. 

A huff of air blows past your lips. Three days. You should just talk to him once he gets back. “Have you packed already? Need any help?”

“No, I already took care of everything last night.”

“Wow,” you laugh, impressed. “That’s so unlike you. You’re well prepared for once.”

Beomgyu doesn’t respond to your jab with the same energy. “I didn’t want to spend the entire morning packing when I can use it to spend a bit more time with you.” 

Instead, he decides to be sweet. Honest. 

You feel your rib cage rattle, your stomach stir. “O—oh,” you rasp out. “Um.”

“What’s with the look?” he laughs a little, taking a step forward. Your back is still pressed against the doorframe. Beomgyu’s arm reaches up further above your head, pushing himself closer. “I thought that much was obvious when I knocked at your door at nine in the morning.”

When you follow his gaze, you can tell that his eyes are tracing the lines on your lips, eyelids heavy. Your breath hitches in your throat. Shit. Oh my god. Is he going to kiss you? Is he leaning it to kiss you? You’re about to freak the fuck out and Beomgyu seems to notice that. He pulls back, allowing the air to circulate back into your lungs, and he lets out a sigh. 

His arm falls down to his side. “You can still take it back,” he says. You look at him, brows furrowed. What? Take what back? Beomgyu waits for you to answer, and when you don’t, he decides that it’s best to be more clear. “We can pretend like what happened on new year’s didn’t happen— uh, remain with what we’re used to if you’re not fine with this. If you think we’re better off as friends like we’ve always been, I don’t mind. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Oh. Oh. You weren’t ready to talk about this yet. You planned to talk about this three days later, but when did your plans ever work? Never. 

Beomgyu attempts a smile and starts heading back to his apartment. “We can talk more once I get back so you can think about it. I’ll go get my—”

“No, wait.”

You grab hold of his arm. Beomgyu turns back, surprised. 

“I’ve al—already been thinking about it. I’ve been thinking a lot.” Crap. Your throat is dry. You didn’t plan any of this. You weren’t expecting to say this to him right now at all. “What I’m saying is—”

Choi Beomgyu looks a little expectant. You suck in a sharp breath. This feels weird. It’s like there’s something jittering at the base of your stomach. Many things, fluttering all the way up to your ribcage and throat and causing your cheeks to flare up.

“We...we can give it a try.”

There. You said it. You finally fucking said it and you can breathe again. Your gaze focuses on Beomgyu, heart racing, and his expression is yet again indecipherable.

He takes a step towards you. Your nerves jolt when you feel his touch on the arch of your spine, pulling you in even closer. “You sure?” 

You let out a squeak. “Tech—technically, I was the one who asked you out, so shouldn’t I— shouldn’t I take responsibility…?”

Beomgyu takes a moment’s pause at your resolution. You’re nervous. You’re so nervous right now that you might have severely fucked up. He looks at you. He looks at you in a way that makes you want to avert your eyes, face flushed from the heat of the moment, only for him to release the tension with a big laugh, fully embracing you by the waist, and dropping his head down onto your shoulder before lifting it back up to look at you with a wide smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you should.”

This time, when he leans in again, doesn’t draw back midway. 

You feel his lips on yours and your eyes flutter wide open, heart rate spiking up and up and up until your lips part, him kissing you deeper, until you can’t keep them open anymore. Beomgyu’s hold around your waist loosens, one hand traveling up to the back of your head before it could collide with the doorframe when you stumble back as you lose the strength in your knees, and before you know it, you’ve got your hands tangled in his hair, dizzy and short-winded and making you think that this— this isn’t so bad.

He draws his lips back with a heavy exhale. “God,” he sighs out as the heat of his breath hits your skin. Your foreheads are pressed together, eyes hazy and cloudy when he leans in again, mumbling into your mouth, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

The reverie ends when a jolt of self-consciousness hits you belatedly. Your hands travel down to his chest, barely pushing off in a surge of sudden panic. Your face is burning, your lips feel fuzzy, and Beomgyu looks both surprised and disappointed which makes the churning in your stomach even worse. “A—a—aren’t you supposed to go now?” you stutter out, still a little breathless. Holy shit. That just happened. 

“You’re right,” Beomgyu responds. “I should go now.” But his body language isn’t showing any signs of leaving. You wait for him to budge. He doesn’t.

Somehow, you manage to push him off you and finally drag him out of the building with his backpack in tow, much to his whines and protests. His brother has been endlessly calling him with all calls left unanswered except for this one. “I’m going! I’m almost there.” He is not. He’s at the bottom steps of the apartment building. 

“Text me when you arrive,” you tell him, ready to head back inside. Beomgyu pockets his phone, looking more alive than ever and it’s annoying you a little.

“Mhm,” he hums in response. His eyes flicker down, debating whether or not to put whatever he’s thinking about with that into action, but decides against it and settles for a rough pat and a ruffle on your head instead, pressing out a small smile. “See you when I get back.” You wave him goodbye as he disappears out into the road. He sends you a text the moment he meets up with his brother.

It’s still a little awkward. You still can’t wrap your mind around this change after being nothing more than just two good friends for two decades. You’re just glad he isn’t trying to rush it. What doesn’t change is his incessantly annoying texts every goddamned hour throughout the three days he’s away. 

And indeed, you do see him when he gets back. He’s supposed to go shopping for the Yeonjun farewell party tomorrow anyway, so you decide to meet him at the station and just proceed to the store immediately after. When he departs from the train and sees you waiting amidst the crowd, he immediately comes rushing over like a puppy. Christ, Minjeong was right. 

Admittedly, you can’t get used to this yet. He’s always been touchy, but they’ve always been subtle. Devouring you into a bone crushing embrace to the point where all you can see and feel with your face is the fur of his jacket isn’t exactly subtle. The sounds of trains zipping, people chatting flood your senses. You quite frankly, cannot breathe. “Hey, chill out. It’s literally been only three days.”

“Bleh, whatever. Chill out, fuck off. Just let me have this.”

Your attempts to wrestle your way out of this good-natured suffocation is fruitless. You used to be able to push him around like nothing back in middle school. How far you have fallen.

“We still have errands to run,” you grunt out, managing to at the very least pop your head out from being smothered into his chest. He looks down at you, bitterly clicking his tongue and loosening his grip a bit. “Jeez, do you like me or something?”

That was supposed to be a joke. Beomgyu doesn’t find it very funny because he suddenly draws back, arms crossed and expression utterly exasperated. “Are you serious? Are you an idiot?”

“I was just pushing your buttons, stupid,” you shoot him a glare, taking advantage of your freedom to start walking ahead and out of the station.

“You’re stupid.”

There isn’t a day where Beomgyu doesn’t decide to irritate the crap out of you. He’s walking behind you. He’s stepping on the back of your shoes and bumping into you like a sixth grader. “Quit it!”

“Make me.”

He’s so annoying. He continues being annoying even at the event supplies stores downtown, where you’re picking up some streamers and party hats for tomorrow. You and he debate between hot pink and baby pink for the color theming. Rock paper scissors declare hot pink the winner and you get paper plates and cups in matching colors. “By the way,” Beomgyu starts, putting in two party poppers into the basket once you’re done loading up the utensils. “I met up with some of the guys from highschool yesterday. You know. Seungmin and Jimin. They were back in town for the holidays as well.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember them,” you respond, not very enthusiastically. The memory still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth like a permanent carpet burn. Beomgyu notices you shooting daggers at the innocent, inflated teddy bear balloon right in front of you. He tugs on your hand and leads you to the checkout counter before you can vent your temper at the poor balloon. “Anyway, how are they? Did you guys hang out?”

“Same old. We hit up the PC room for old times sake,” he hums, waiting as the cashier buzzes your items. “Actually, our high school batch is apparently planning a small reunion or get together of some sorts here in Seoul. They’re asking if we wanted to attend too.”

Well. You don’t exactly want to mingle with a bunch of kids that you weren’t even close with back then. And your social battery is already beyond depleted and has had no chance of ever getting a full recovery after all the events from December to January.

You mull it over while the counter finishes bagging your things. The both of you decide to make a pitstop at a nearby cafe. After ordering, you two pick a table on the outside porch because the weather is nice out. Beomgyu drags the metal chair from across so that he’s sitting next to you. Again, Kim Minjeong might’ve been onto something when she called him a puppy with severe attachment issues. The server comes by with your order. Your caffeine intake has been atrocious so you opted for a lychee drink instead, and he settles with a regular latte. Beomgyu hums out a tune while stirring his coffee, playfully hooking his opposite leg with yours underneath the table.

“About the reunion thing,” you chime up. “Will Chaeryoung be there?” 

“How should I know,” he grimaces after trying out your drink. At this point, you think he’s faking it. “She’s your friend, not mine.”

He just keeps pushing your buttons today. “Hey, jerk.” You snatch back the drink from under his chin, visibly provoked. “Why have you gotten even more annoying now that we’re— we’re. We’re—”

Your initial attitude is immediately gone. You choke on your words, one left unsaid because at this point it’s still a little fucking embarrasing, especially with how Choi Beomgyu’s is eyeing you with a shit eating expression while taking a sip from his coffee.

“Now that we’re what?” he hums in provocation, smiling that annoying smile of his with twinkling eyes. “C’mon. Say it.”

“Fuck you, nevermind—”

“No, I want to hear this! Now what we’re what?” Suddenly, he’s twisting over his chair to directly face you. You groan and quickly jerk away when you notice he’s enjoying this a little too much. You seriously want to sock him in the face. “Do you want me to stop being annoying? Hey! Hey, look at me!”

You let out a squeak when you feel his palms on your warm cheeks, turning your head to face him in bewilderment and you panic and hold onto your chair. “What the hell are you—”

“Tell me,” he interrupts. “What do you want me to do?”

This bastard wants to kill you via heart failure. Any ability to speak coherently has completely left your body.. “I, uh, well—”

“Hm?” he touts even further. “What was that?”

You hate him. You hate him so much. You want to hide and bury your face into the ground, and he’s just visibly laughing at you like a sick freak.

Beomgyu finally releases his hold on your face to snatch both of your hands instead. He pulls them towards his chest, but his eyes remain on you, the sheer amusement never leaving his gaze. “Do you want me to be sweeter?” he hums, tracing his thumbs over your knuckles before pressing a light kiss in between the narrow gap. “I can do that.”

His eyes are still trained on you, almost taunting.

“Baby?”

Then the sun spits on your face and you feel the primal instinct to book it and run away.

“Sweetie?” He tugs you forward, pulling your forearms into his chest, just in time for him to land a peck on your nose. “Darling?”

But you can’t run away. No. Because Choi Beomgyu has you hostage while he attacks you with an onslaught of cringey endearments and butterfly kisses on the face to remind you that he is, in fact, strong now, and you can’t do anything about it. Had you known he was going to torment you like this, you should’ve just taken it all back.

“Ow! Why are you hitting me, I’m just doing what you wanted me to do— ow! Then again, dipshit does suit you better than—ow! This is assault!” 

“You’re assault!” you screech out, finally managing to retrieve your bearings and you immediately cross your arms over the table, next to your barely touched lychee drink, and bury your face, never to see the light of day ever again. You hear Beomgyu having the time of his life next to you, laughing like an asshole. You send a blind kick in his direction. It hits. His cackling stops and he makes another pained noise.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry,” you hear him say. Then you hear the squeak of the chair, a bump on your elbow, and you peek out to see him laying his head on his crossed arms on the table as well, facing you. “I was just happy to see you again.”

You stare at him. How the fuck are you supposed to keep protesting when he’s being like this. “Beomgyu, you were gone for three days.”

“Three days too long,” he whines, muffling himself into his sleeves. “I’m with you every single day. I was suffering from withdrawals especially when my parents and your parents kept asking me why I didn’t bring you this year.” He tosses his head back up, suddenly looking at you with narrowed eyes and petulantly pursed lips. “And to think that when I got back, all I’ve been getting are swears and punches and rejection and— ah, my heart is wounded. I won’t ever recover from this. Never, ever, not even in a million— mmph!”

Choi Beomgyu’s eyes are wide, the tips of his fingers lifted up to his slightly parted mouth after you’d just shot up to shut up his never ending yapping by kissing him. There’s a heavy blush on his cheeks and even though yours are a little warm too, the corner of your lips involuntarily quirk upward. Holy shit. So, this is how it feels to be on the attacking end. Choi Beomgyu, you can eat shit and die. “Hah. Two can play it that game, fuckf—”

“Oh my god?!”

Your victory is cut short. Your blood runs cold. You should’ve remembered that you’re on the outside deck of a cafe right now, where people can just freely pass by and see you. You two are, in fact, seen, not just by any people. 

With the creaks of hesitance in your joints, you turn to the sound of the very appalled, very alarmed, very familiar voice. There, you see Kim Minjeong and Sung Hanbin standing with shopping bags, some of which have fallen on the floor, all of which are for what you assume is Yeonjun’s farewell party. The former looks at you in horror. The latter is just smiling and waving. “What the fuck did I just see?” Minjeong croaks out. “Tell me, what the fuck did I just see?”

“I—I can explain!” you quickly sputter out. You turn to Beomgyu for help, but the fucker is still lost in a lovestruck daze. Oh my god. You want to die.

“Congratulations,” Hanbin happily remarks. You want to die very much. Maybe at the hands of Minjeong because she’s marching up the deck and her eyes are on fire. 

Somehow, you manage to smooth things over. You fill them in with what happened on new year, and Minjeong says she saw this coming but still can’t accept it because you’re way too good for Beomgyu, which snaps him out of it and they get into a squabble. “So you approved of Jang Seung but not me?!” Hanbin is all smiles, though, and he promised to keep it a secret from the rest of the coding club guys for now because you don’t even want to imagine what would happen if they find out. Heeseung especially. Oh god. It’s going to be a disaster.

The disaster comes not even twenty-four hours later, at Yeonjun’s farewell party. 

Most of the morning, you all spend the time to decorate the clubroom and set up all the cameras to record Yeonjun’s inevitable sobfest. Hot pink and white streamers are hung around and about. There are balloons on the wall spelling CONGRATULATIONS, Y3ONJUN! because there weren’t any letter E’s available. The boxes of pizza and chicken arrive. Jeongin walks in with a cake. You’re all decked out in party hats and birthday trumpets while waiting for the man of the hour to arrive.

“Pink or brighter pink?” Beomgyu asks, holding up the two cones for your perusal. You’re both wedged in a corner in the room, slightly detached from the rest of the group scuttling by the door.

“First one,” you hum, and he draws the string down, tapping the cone cap on the crown of your head while he slowly lets go of the string once it’s set underneath your chin. Beomgyu takes a step back, examining his work, before nodding into a satisfied smile and putting his own party hat on himself.

He’s. He’s so dumb. You brush off a smile with the shake of your head, and in doing so you inadvertently lock eyes with Heeseung, who seems to have witnessed the entire exchange and is now squinting at you— like he’s trying to understand something. Clearing your throat, you look away before he can take your eye contact as an invitation to talk, and Heeseung is just about to approach when the clubroom door clatters open, a series of party poppers go off, confetti shoots out, right in time for Yeonjun to step in, eyes wide in half-fear, half-surprise.

“Wh—whoa, what? Hey, what’s going on?”

In a matter of seconds, things escalate. Congratulations are yelled out. Some happy birthdays (whatever makes them happy). The pink graduation cake is released. It takes a moment for Yeonjun to let it all sink in, and when it does, the boys’ predictions are ultimately proven correct because he tries to play it off that he’s definitely, absolutely not crying (he is). 

They laugh at him, make fun of him, and group hugs are shared. It’s all very silly and very cute. You’re on photo taking duty until Hyunjin pulls you into their mess of limbs and yelling and sobs until you’re finally able to wiggle out back into your corner. 

Beomgyu returns to your corner with a slice of cake on a paper plate, two forks, and a dollop of icing on the tip of his nose. 

“Is that a new look you’re trying?” you laugh, taking one of the forks on the plate.

“What are you talking about?” His brows are furrowed. You tap on your nose. Beomgyu mirrors your movement, still confused until he feels the smudge of icing, and he draws his hand away with disgust. “God damn it. Jeongin, that rat.” Despite his desire for revenge, Choi Beomgyu doesn’t leave the corner. He stays there with you, watching all the rest of the boys making a mess as you share your cake, plucking off a crumb from the corner of your mouth while you wheeze at Heeseung trying and failing to pin the tail on the Yeonjun-donkey. 

“Idiot, to your left! Left! That’s not your—”

“Hey, hold still for a sec—”

“Are you directionally— oh!”

Lee Heeseung rips off his blindfold— ready to whine at you— but that intention immediately simmers down to something else when he snaps his head just in time for him to witness Beomgyu touching your face and getting away with it unscathed. You jolt. Heeseung’s eyes are narrowed at you. “Hey, what’s going—”

“We got a noise complaint! ICT publication from next door!”

“Ugh, party poopers.”

“Choi Beomgyu, go deal with it.”

Thank god for that interruption. The man in question doesn’t seem as happy about it, though. “What? Why me?” he groans in protest. You see Heeseung pause mid-stride towards the both of you.

“Because we need someone with charisma to make sure we don’t get in trouble and Yeonjun hyung is useless right now.” Hyunjin reasons. Cut to Yeonjun who’s still sobbing his eyes out at the paper roll of messages you guys wrote for him. He really is useless. Beomgyu sees the waterworks and lets out another grunt.

“Ugh.” Pouting, Beomgyu turns back to you, handing you the plate and finishing it off by messing up your hair. “I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Quit acting like you won’t miss me, meanie.”

You stick your tongue out. Beomgyu rolls his eyes and heads off with Hyunjin outside to deal with the complaint, hooking the latter by the neck with his arm. You’re about to finish up your cake when Heeseung replaces Beomgyu’s spot. You nearly choke on the damn thing when he suddenly bolts up saying, “Hey. Why the fuck are you two acting so weird?”

“Jesus fucking—” you cough. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The look of suspicion never leaves Heeseung’s face. You can feel it— cold sweat breaking. Shit. Is this it? Is this the end of your peace and quiet? “Beomgyu has been all up in your space since we started preparing and at this point, you would’ve sworn at him at least two dozen times already,” he starts. “I haven’t heard your unrecyclable mouth utter even a shit or damn. There hasn’t even been any bickering and it’s freaking me out.”

Of all times, why does he decide to be perceptive now? You can’t even muster up a response. Thank god he’s a yapper because he fills in the silence himself.

“Well, whatever,” Heeseung simply shrugs. “I guess that’s a good thing because my ears are spared from your potty mouth just for today.” 

He’s perceptive but not sharp. Today, you are saved. “Go suck a dick.”

“That’s the spirit. Back to normal.” Your friend grins and gives you a thumbs up. You shoot him a glare and he blocks your punch with his palm. “But did something happen? The vibe between you and he is a little different. How do I put it?” You struggle to remove your fist from the bastard’s grip, but he doesn’t let you budge while he continues to ponder. “It’s like you’re a couple of high schoolers who just started dating or some shit, haha. Something like that.”

You rip your hand away and press it close to your chest.

“Yo, what’s with the face?”

Turns out, your good for nothing friend has been speaking a little too loud that it’s gotten quiet. Quiet in anticipation because everyone in the room is looking at you right now— including Beomgyu, who’d just gotten back with Hyunjin after their successful mission. “Whoa, what’s going on?” Hyunjin asks. You gulp. You look at Beomgyu, who’s a little taken aback by what’s going down. Oh, you’re so fucking screwed.

“Wait, why aren’t you denying it?”

How could you when Choi Beomgyu is looking straight at you? Sure, you don’t want them to find out, but you don’t have the heart to deny it and make Beomgyu upset, either! You remain quiet for five, sixe seconds— several seconds too late because they construe your silence as a yes, and Heeseung’s eyes start beaming, and it gets loud again, and your face is starting to grow way too hot for you to handle

“Oh my god? Oh my fucking god? Oh my god, my biggest wish is finally happening— guys! Guys!”

That’s it. It’s over. It’s all over. The news spreads like wildfire, but it’s all Heeseung’s hearsay until a confirmation comes out from either of you two’s mouths. Heeseung is shaking you by the shoulders. Yeonjun is crying even more. Hanbin is watching everything with a smile and he sends you an assuring thumbs up, but you don’t feel assured at all. From the corner of your eye, you can also see Beomgyu getting assaulted. He’s got Hyunjin and Jeongin yelling at him from both sides. He looks like he’s getting a migraine.

“Is it true?! Did you two really decide to date?”

“No way! Not with how adamantly she’s been against—”

“Wait, this isn’t our business, we shouldn’t—”

“Who asked who out? C’mon, you gotta tell us!”

Despite it all, Beomgyu’s usually loud mouth remains quiet. He says nothing to them. Instead, he meets eyes with you from across the room— a cock of his head, a slight raise of his brow as if to say just give me the signal, what do you want me to do? 

You feel as though you’ve already been asking him for too many favors this year. You suck in a sharp inhale, and, while ignoring Heeseung’s vigorous shaking of your person, answer Hyunjin’s question in his stead. “I did,” you said. “I asked him. On new year’s. Under the table.”

Heeseung suddenly freezes. You squeeze your eyes shut and look down, cheeks burning. Then you hear a scream.

“You?! You?!”

“This is crazy. What the fuck, I don’t believe it.”

“I knew it! I knew something big happened then! Gosh, I fucking knew it!”

“You were barely conscious then, how could you know—”

“About time, really.”

“Hey, I’m so happy for you two,” Yeonjun suddenly saunters up to you, eyes red and threatening to spill again. He sniffles and pulls you into a hug. “I’m just so...so—”

And your shoulder is wet. You give him a few pats on the bag as you watch Beomgyu fed off his rabid fans from jumping him while he attempts to move closer to you. He manages to succeed by announcing that he needs to talk to you in private and then go crazy. He doesn’t succeed as much in prying Yeonjun off of you, though. You’re both suffocated in a group hug and best wishes from the soon-to-graduate club member. 

“Hey, I hope none of you have forgotten who this party is actually for,” you raise in the hopes of dissuading the situation. Which works. Somehow. You’re in no position to question a blessing from the skies.

“Sideshow over! Time to watch the message video—”

“Where’s the cord? Whose laptop are we using again?”

“Hey, nobody leaves until we clean everything up! Jeongin, I’m looking at you.”

Regardless, Heeseung wouldn’t leave you alone until you fess everything up to him. Even after the party, he kept texting and calling you to tell him the how, what, where, and why. Mostly because he wanted to confirm that he has all the credit of introducing you both through that blind date. It was very funny to see his entire world shatter when you told him that you and Beomgyu had known each other since forever. He stopped bothering you after that and decided it’s not fun anymore to tease you.

Unfortunately, the rest of his club members haven’t tired themselves out yet. When Beomgyu told them he wasn’t gonna join their night out this weekend because you guys had the high school reunion thing he mentioned to you the other day, they refused to believe him and that he was just making an excuse to spend time with you. You owe Hwang Hyunjin a punch to the gut. He must’ve forgotten that there was a reason he was scared of you the first time you met.

Anyhow, those headaches are set aside because you have a different headache to deal with— that is, the impending hell of meeting your high school classmates again. You contacted Chaeryoung the other day, asking if she’s also attending and she responded with a sudden call, which turned into a two-hour catching up session. Needless to say, you have no choice but to show up now. 

It’s the day of, and you’re getting ready inside the bedroom apartment. There’s soft music humming through the turntable Beomgyu gave you as a Christmas gift, loaded with the record you bought last month. It’s the same song he played onstage two months ago. The room is dimmed, the bronze ceiling light the only thing illuminating the walls, floor, the bedsheet you’re sinking into and the mess of makeup items scattered about, as well as Choi Beomgyu’s face that’s inches away from yours— a focused look of concentration etched on his pursed lips as he brings up a brush up to your cheekbone.

“Hey, stop that! It tickles!” you laugh, albeit unwillingly, as you swat his hand away. “If you mess up I’m gonna have to wipe my entire face off and start over.” You feel your phone vibrating next to your hand that’s pressed into the mattress. Must be from Chaeryoung. You look down to grab it, but Beomgyu taps on the side of your jaw, lifting your face up to look at him.

“Who cares? We’re already late anyway.” His brows are all knitted up in concentration, wielding your lipstick wand like it’s a scalpel and he’s about to perform open heart surgery. Why is he taking this so seriously? He barged in while you were putting on makeup earlier and bragged that he could actually be pretty good at this, and you egged him on to prove it. So far, he’s been all talk, sweating after tapping on barely any product on your cheeks with your blush brush. “Stay still, dipshit. Unless you want to end up looking like a clown.”

“I’ll kill you if you mess up.”

“Then maybe shut your mouth for a sec.”

“Nyeye, then maybe shut your mouth for a—”

“Shush! I’m concentrating!”

You muffle down a laugh, seeing him try so hard. You can see the sweat bead trailing down his forehead as he lifts up your chin with one hand and now brings a shade of lipstick to your lips with the other. There’s a jitter of hesitation the moment you feel the product brush against your lips— a light press and a pause. You look up at his eyes but he’s not looking at yours. And then you watch as Beomgyu’s takes a deep breath while clumsily applying the product in a rush, mumbling something you can’t quite hear under his breath, and he twists the wand back into its container before tossing it onto your bed.

“What was that?” you ask, grabbing his wrist before he could retreat. You can see him even under this dim light. You can see just how red his ears are. You fight back the urge to laugh and make fun of him outright. You need a different strategy to win against him. “What did you say?”

Beomgyu is still not looking at you. He’s not fighting against your grip, but the heat has traveled down to his neck as he continues to look away. “I said pretty,” he coughs out, then repeats, “your lips are pretty.” Your grip loosens. He takes this as an opportunity to peek at you once more. Which proves to be the wrong move. “No, your entire face is pretty. What the hell? How am I supposed to make fun of you now? This is pissing me off.”

You don’t recall giving him any blush, but Choi Beomgyu is blushing red when he stomps out of your room in a fit. You’re flustered yourself, but your annoyance and confusion overtakes any other emotion as you quickly gather your purse and phone and wallet to catch up to him and his sudden tantrum.

“Now, why the fuck would that piss you off, you dick?!”

You’re both in your living room now. Beomgyu is throwing on his coat when he snarks back, “See! Because it doesn’t match your vulgar mouth and nasty personality!”

“You talk as if you’re any better than me, fuckface.” Somehow, you’re both on your way out now, walking down the hallway and down the stairs to the lobby as your…civilized conversation continues. “In fact, your mouth is way worse than mine.”

“Lies!” he barks back. You’re both out of the building now. “Statistically speaking, you swear exponentially more times than me.”

“You failed our statistics and probability final in ninth grade. Don’t get smart with me. And should I show you the voice recordings Heeseung sends me whenever you two are playing a game? Your mother would cry if she heard them.”

“I can’t believe you’re using my own strategy against me.” Now, you’re walking to the parking lot and even while he’s ranting, Beomgyu manages to lead you right to his car. “And mind you, those are exceptional circumstances. In general and on average, you are the worst offender of all. There isn’t a day where you don’t tell me to fuck off or eat shit, and I’m not the only victim. There’s Heeseung. There’s Sungchan. There’s—”

His throat holds his words hostage. You are being held hostage in between him and his car when he leans in to open the passenger door for you, hand already on the handle, but Beomgyu remains unmoving. His lips are pressed tightly, together and a wrinkle creases the space between his eyebrows.

Then, he breathes out a swear.

“Dammit.”

His grip leaves the door, cups your cheeks, and lunges in for a kiss like a crazy person.

The first moment, you’re shocked and wide-eyed and wondering what the fuck is this idiot trying to pull. The next moment, you find yourself getting swept up in his insanity, wide eyes fluttering close with your arms around his neck, securing another five minutes of tardiness to the event, and the five minutes end with his exhaled breaths warming up your lips amidst the cold evening. “I swear to god, Choi Beomgyu,” you grunt, barely shoving him away. What was the point of his whole make-up guru charade earlier? What was the point if he was gonna smudge it all off anyway? “There’s seriously something wrong with you.”

Your complaint is met by a pout and him retaliating by pulling you in with one arm, and his free hand finding its way to your face. “Is this your way of breaking up with me?”

He’s insufferable. “You wish.”

“No, I don’t,” is his quick reply. It almost made your heart stutter— even more so when he uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your lips with the disappointed click of his tongue. “Sorry I ruined your lipstick. I’ll fix it in the car.”

You smack his hand away, covering your face with the back of your hand. “It was ruined the moment you put it on!” You quickly whisk yourself into the car, finally. Beomgyu follows into the driver’s seat not long after, but not without yelling out his self-defense.

“Hey, I did a pretty good job! I just need a bit more practice!”

Sometime in the middle of the car ride, the argument fizzled out and got replaced by his playlist, and a conversation on when you’d be coming back home to Daegu before the semester starts since your mom wants to show off the new sofa set she bought. It’s very cozy, she says, with the only downside being the fact that it’s too cozy to the point that your dad’s evening naps have become more frequent.

It’s just mindless meandering on the way to the venue— a karaoke room at Grand Hyatt Hotel that you and the rest of your attending batchmates chipped in to book. Of the thirty students from your batch, twenty-three confirmed attendance including Beomgyu and yourself. Of the other twenty-one people, you’re only close with one of them.

Maybe your endless prattling about your mom’s new cushions and throw pillows to distract yourself from why you even volunteered yourself to attend. Maybe you’re just using Chaeryeong as an excuse to validate yourself and witness exactly how much you’ve and everyone else has changed since highschool in spite of your vocalized disinterest. 

“You good?” 

The car engine has stopped humming. The streetlight road has been replaced by a dim hotel parking lot, and you turn to see the dim image of Choi Beomgyu’s blurry face eyeing you in concern. You recall his initial surprise when you voiced out your intent on coming with him this evening. Not that he’d stopped you, but you figure even his dummy self could put your initial reservations, and the confession you dropped a few months ago when you made up after your fight. I’ve only been known as the girl who’s always been around you and nothing else. I doubt you noticed how people would only approach me because of you. 

It still makes you cringe whenever that memory would creep into your brain like a rat at two in the morning when you’re trying to sleep. Sure, things are different now, but you felt that way at a time when your world consisted of nothing more than your town back in Daegu, and eighty percent of your life was spent in high school. You’re stepping back into that world right now, where you’re nothing but Choi Beomgyu’s friend, acquaintance, something— never had been just yourself. 

And you know Beomgyu knows that this is exactly what you’re thinking about right now. Which is why he doesn’t get out of the car yet, and instead asks, “Do you wanna just ditch and go hang out somewhere else?”

You let out a laugh. He’s such a dork. “No way. Chaeryeong’s gonna sulk if I don’t see her today, and I could use a few drinks, you know.” You have no intention of stripping him the opportunity to hang out with his old friends again. You’ve seen how much his phone has been buzzing on the way here. Why does he have so many clingy male friends? You’ll never understand. Choi Beomgyu is just some guy.

That some guy stares at you for a bit as he mulls over your answer. “If you say so. But if you wanna leave early, just tell me.”

Seriously. It’s not like he treats them like this, for them to go crazy over hum. Then again, maybe this guy just has the inherent knack of drawing people in. You’ve been a witness of that phenomenon for the past two decades, and you’re witnessing it again tonight, counting down from the moment you two leave the car and enter the building, enter the karaoke lounge, and despite Choi Beomgyu (and you) interrupting an ongoing performance by Seungmin and Jimin on the machine, the response to his entrance is, quite frankly, a bit over the top.

“Look who’s finally here.”

“Man, what took you so long?”

“Woohoo! Time to get the party started!”

Neon lights are already lighting up the dim room. Beer bottles have already been cracked open on the tables. You watch as he gets whisked away by his old high school friend group, stifling your laughter because maybe Choi Beomgyu has changed because he looks a little overwhelmed and taken aback by the assault of attention. Surprisingly, it’s a very funny sight. He turns back to you while Jiwoong hooks him by the neck and ushers him into the lounge as if he’s asking for help. Which draws attention to you, obviously. His friends turn around. The first one to greet you is Seungmin. “Oh, hey!” he exclaims, leaning in for a quick half-hug. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

“I’ve been stuck at the door for the past few minutes due to the traffic you idiots are causing, thank you very much for asking,” you respond after pulling back, smiling.

“You still have an attitude,” he snarks. “And you two are still joint at the hip. Did you arrive together?”

“Yup. I’m getting sick of him, so I’d appreciate it if you take him away from me now.”

“You can bet on it.”

Before Beomgyu could protest, he’s already been handed the mic and had been fed a shot glass. The rest of the guys follow suit in giving you quick greetings, how are you’s, how have you been’s. You still haven’t seen Chaeryeong around so you shoot her a text. She responds with exclamation marks and the text, [WAIT A SECOND. BATHROOM. BE THERE IN A BIT], and she emerges through the door not long after to greet you with the gift of suffocation. “Oh my god, I missed you so much,” she wheezes out. “Why haven’t we made plans even once since starting uni? I know we talked a bit last time but how have you been? Has Choi Beomgyu been treat—”

You prompt shut her mouth with your hand. You did keep her posted over the phone last time, but you don’t intend on sharing the status update between you and Choi Beomgyu to your whole class that had been under the assumption that you’ve been together, anyway. It’s none of their business— and definitely not the business of the girl that had been staring at you the whole goddamn time since you arrived here.

Among the twenty-one people that came today is Haena. Haena, the girl that invited you to hang out with her friends for coffee around a year ago. Haena, the girl who kept grilling you about your relationship with Beomgyu, just to ask if you could help her get together with him. Haena and her friends, Bora and Seohyun, who’d been drilling holes into the back of your head for the past fifteen or so minutes. Last you’ve heard of her, she’s studying nursing at DSU. 

You’ve never told Beomgyu about the little incident because it never escalated into anything more than dirty looks in the hallway and the classroom and the proliferation of gossip about you and Choi Beomgyu. And since nearly a whole year had passed, you were hoping that that was all water under the bridge now, but apparently it’s not. Jesus, what does she want?

“Okay, okay, let’s stop the singing for now since everyone’s already here and raise our drinks up! To the class of 20XX!”

You’ve no intention of letting that bother the rest of your night. Yet Haena wasn’t the only bitter aftertaste of that period of your life. An hour or so into the evening, you get out of the karaoke lounge to get a breather in the lobby. Choi Beomgyu is still trapped inside thanks to his ten million fanboys-slash-friends. Chaeryeong wanted to come with you but she got roped into a drinking game and has shown no signs of escaping. Which leaves you some time to recharge a bit before the inevitable agenda of reminiscence once everyone’s gotten a bit too drunk and loose-lipped.

On the way to the hotel lobby, you bump into Jiwoong— that guy, ex-crush, who rejected you in the rain two years back, maybe. So much for water under the bridge because just looking at him makes you feel mortified. He greets you with a nod and a smile before walking past you back into the lounge. God, that was an embarrassing moment. You shake your head and race into the hall leading up to the carpeted lobby.

Unfortunately for you, you weren’t the only one with the same idea.

There, sitting defeated and exhausted on one of the plush seats is Lim Jimin. Embarrassing encounter number two. He notices you. You two make eye contact. Fuck. Yes, you two exchanged awkward hello’s earlier, but seeing his face just makes you recount the humiliation you felt when you expected a confession from him.

“O—oh, hi.”

He’s the one that greets you first, and it sounds a lot more agonizing than if you’d been the one to do it. Did Choi Beomgyu say something to this guy? Why does he look just as uncomfortable as you?

“Uh, hey.” You quickly squeeze out a response. “It’s getting stuffy inside, right? Haha, enjoy your alone time. I’ll be doing the same outs—”

“W—wait!” The last thing you expected was for Jimin to say something to you. You preemptively stop walking, and the momentum causes you to jerk a bit, giving him the opportunity to jump off his seat and keep talking. “This…this is a bit long overdue, and this may sound stupid, but I feel like I owe you an apology.” 

An apology? Your brows furrow. You regain your balance, resting a hand on the backrest of the sofa beside you. “For what?”

He struggles a bit. “Um…do you remember when I asked you a favor last year? To convince Beomgyu to help me rank up in League?” You can feel the heat of embarrassment flushing your cheeks again. God dammit, why can’t he be like Jiwoong who just smiled and walked past you like nothing happened? “You stormed off after that, and I couldn’t help but feel really guilty that I did something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out why you’d be angry no matter how much I thought about it.”

Somehow, your hands find themselves covering your face, head down. “Ah,” you exhale a disgruntled breath, then force an inhale. You bring your head up. You look at the boy who’s looking guilty when he shouldn’t be. “You did nothing wrong, Jimin. I was just worked up that day and sort of lost my cool. I should be the one who’s sorry.” This is so ridiculous. At least with this, you think you can finally be over it. “Gosh. I can’t believe you’ve been stressing about that.”

Jimin brings his arms to a cross and rubs his palms against his sleeves, still looking down and sorry. “I felt really bad, okay? I really thought I said something wrong, especially to my friend’s girlfriend.”

You feel a twitch in your temple. Here’s another misunderstanding to clear. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to help you anyway. I wasn’t his girlfriend back then.”

This causes him to jolt his eyes up to look at you. “Huh? Really?” His widened eyes blink rapidly. “Back then? Then does that mean you’re—”

An interruption in the form of your name being called out arrives.

You turn your head back— back into the direction of the hall that led into the karaoke lounge. “Beomgyu,” you acknowledge, padding up to him upon his arrival. You figure he managed to listen in on the last part of that conversation, considering the fact he welcomes your arrival with a snug arm around you. Like Minjeong says, Choi Beomgyu acts like a puppy with attachment issues, but he hasn’t been committing any heinous acts of public affection the entire reunion event. You haven’t even said anything. He knows you a little too well. “What’s up? Got sick of all your friends’ love and attention already?”

“That’s one reason,” he grunts “But the guys wanted to gather everyone around for something. What were you two doing out here?”

The question seems to be pointed at Jimin, and the man in question struggles to come up with a response. You lightly elbow Choi Beomgyu. “We were just clearing up some misunderstandings,” you say, which Jimin echoes, and then you give Beomgyu a whispered reminder. “You know. The fake secret admirer incident last year. Looking back, that was also half your fault for planting ideas in my head.”

“Oh, yeah. That incident,” Beomgyu snorts upon recollection. “Damn. You never fail at being embarrassing.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You elbow him again. Less lightly this time. Telling him about the whole confession misunderstanding on your part will forever be one of the greatest regrets of your life. “Jimin, We’ll head in first.”

“Sure thing. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec.”

With that, you shuffle back into the hallway, and upon getting closer to the lounge, Beomgyu slowly paces away a considerable distance between the both of you. The last thing he lets go of is his gentle hold on your wrist as he led you down the hallway. He used that same hand to open up the door, announcing your re-arrival— which elicits a different reaction from the first time you two arrived. “Oooh, here they are. The lovebirds are finally here.”

Even though they aren’t misunderstanding your relationship this time around, it still is really fucking annoying.

“C’mon, sit down, sit down! We’ve already started playing truth or dare while you guys were out. Where’s Jimin?”

It doesn’t feel right to deny it. “He’s still out.” But it doesn’t feel right to just let them keep goading you either. “Said he’ll join us later. If you ask any weird questions, I’m out.” 

“Lighten up! We’re all just curious to find out what everyone’s been up to this past year.” The two long tables in the venue have been pressed together to form one big square where everyone is sitting around. With Beomgyu following behind you and seated to your left, you take the spot Chaeryeong has been saving, quickly filling you in with the revelations you’d missed, but it’s hard to keep up with her once the group got the ball rolling again by spinning an empty beer bottle in the middle of the square time after time, round after round. 

You all found out Seungmin was the one who put fake cockroaches in the faculty office. Jimin joined the table after that round. Your poor friend Chaeryeong had to chug down a terrible excuse of a drink for refusing to answer a question. She’s now mumbling incoherencies into your shoulder as you watch the botte spin for the nth time— spinning, spinning, spinning, slowly losing speed until it ultimately stops and points at you.

“Alright, alright! Truth or dare?”

Well, shit.

“Ah. Truth, I guess,” you grant. You’ve already had enough embarrassing moments involving your high school cohort. You need not add another one, and considering how everyone’s interest about you revolves around Choi Beomgyu and Choi Beomgyu only, you figured that the poor idiot next to you should be more scared of the question than you in case his friends want to ask about his deepest, darkest secrets.

“Oh, there’s something I’d like to know!”

The person who decides that you should be the one on the chopping block is Kim Bora, who’s grinning at you from across the table, right in between Haena and Seohyun. Ah. You have a feeling where this is going. You suck in a deep breath and muster up all the patience in the world.

“How did you and Beomgyu manage to stay strong after all these years?”

Unfortunately, that amount of patience is very thin. Very thin indeed. Even more thinned out with the number of voices doubling, tripling it down.

“Oooh, I wanna hear too!”

“Yeah, what’s your secret, man? All my relationships end after three months, I feel like there’s something I’m doing wrong.”

“Tell us your secret!”

“What are you guys—”

That last voice came from Beomgyu, who you promptly stopped with the squeeze of his hand. Don’t say anything, don’t stop them, you say to him with narrowed eyes. He gives you a conflicted look, but he relents anyway, settling back down, but you can tell he’s worked up. Well, you just want to know how far they’re gonna take this. You want to know how much you can bite your tongue. You know you’ve always been prone to outbursts and impulse, but after all the shit you’ve been through these past two semesters, mindless, nose-digging gossip like this is nothing.

More than that, you want to know what this girl Haena is planning with how much she’s been giggling for the past minute and a half.  

“What are you saying, Bora? You’re so silly! Don’t you remember what we talked about with her before? They’ve never dated!”

And there it is.

“Huh?”

Haena’s statement drops a blanket of confused silence over the table. “What are you talking about?” one of your old classmates asks, and you want to echo the same sentiments because what exactly is she trying to achieve with this?

“C’mon,” Haena waves the silence off, still grinning, still sneaking glances at you. “You didn’t know? You guys were all being judgmental for assuming a boy and girl are dating just because they’re really close friends. Well, it’s not like they ever denied it. Oh, well but the truth is they were never dating. You two were never dating, right? Right?”

Ah. This is kind of pissing you off.

“Hey, that’s enough—”

Is this because you wouldn’t set her up with Beomgyu? Jesus, isn’t she over that already? Is she trying to frame you as some attention-seeker who thrived off the misunderstanding that you and your childhood friend have something more going on? Well, too bad. You’ve already been branded as a cheater and a whore. This is so juvenile that it’s starting to prick at the patience you’ve worked so hard to build up.

“Damn, seriously? So I stopped myself from confessing over nothing? If you two weren’t dating, how come neither of you said a thing?”

“That’s what I’m saying! Kinda crazy that they just let everyone misunderstand!” 

“Jesus, why are we even talking about this?” Seungmin attempts to dissuade the conversation, but the misfortune that comes after is Jimin accidentally adding fuel to the fire by letting slip the information you’d shared to him just moments ago.

“Right? Why does it even matter if they were dating or not back then? What’s important is that they’re both happily dating now!”

Another blanket of silence mops the table.

At this point, you just wanna go home.

“Ha!” A noise of disbelief rips out of Haena’s throat as sneers at you from across. “I can’t believe this! You kept saying and acting like you weren’t interested in him when you’d end up taking the opportunity, anyway! Wow, you acted so high and mighty back then, bragging that you didn’t have any feelings for him as if it made you better than the rest of us. If it’d end up like this, you should’ve just hooked up and gone after him ages ag—”

“For fuck’s sake, I’ve heard enough.”

The table rattles. Your eyes widen, snapping up to your left to see Choi Beomgyu who had stood up, who— for the first time in the years you’ve known him— looks mad. Angrier than when you two fought last year. Angrier than you think you’d ever been, even with your horrid short-temper.

His knuckles are tight. He’s seething. You’re too caught off guard to react in time and stop the damage he intends on making.

“Seriously. Why the fuck do you keep running your mouth about something that’s completely out of your business?”

It’s not only you. It seems that everyone is surprised to find the always easygoing, always friendly and outgoing Choi Beomgyu suddenly acting like this— acting like this on your behalf. “So what if we started dating? What’s it to you? What’s it to any of you?” You’re stunned. He draws his fingers to his hair. He shakes it off with an incensed breath. “Jesus christ. If you guys aren’t interested in talking about anything else other than our relationship, then I guess the both of us should just leave so that you can gossip more, yeah? Enjoy the rest of the damned night, assholes.”

When his head drops and his eyes make contact with yours, his gaze immediately softens. Let’s go, he mouths with a smile. You feel a lump in your throat. Beomgyu whisks you away before you can even acknowledge it.

“Whoa, that was scary.”

“Was he always like this?”

“You were the ones who crossed the line. What were you guys thinking?”

At some point, Beomgyu has completely dragged you out of the karaoke lounge, out of the hall, out of the hotel lobby, and into the dimly lit parking lot with nothing but a handful of streetlights illuminating the chalky pavement. You hadn’t even realized you’d been running until he stopped underneath the dancing particles of the ilt-up post, brightening up the empty parking space right next to his car. You hadn’t even realized you’d been catching your breath until he points it out for you

“Seriously, what the hell was wrong with people? Why can’t everyone just mind their own business and leave us—” The tempo of his rant fizzles out immediately. Beomgyu bites down a frown and pulls you in, brushing through the unkempt strands of your hair from the wind. “Sorry, was I running too fast? I just wanted to get you out of there as quickly as I can.”

Choi Beomgyu had confronted your old inhibitions on your behalf. He’d done the same thing with Jang Seung last semester. He’d done the same with his former friends that were talking shit about you and even got into a fight because of it. And it seems like the same thing is going to happen now.

It’s always him who does things for you. He was the one who took the first step in your reconciliation last year. He was the one who’d always put the entirety of his soft, tender feelings into the palm of his hands and handed them off to you without even expecting anything in return. 

Maybe it’s about time for you to do the same.

Maybe it’s about time for you to confront the one thing you’ve been confining in the back of your mind for god knows how long.

“Beomgyu.”

It’s always been there— since you were, what? Fourteen? Sixteen? Since he’d made you watch that stupid scary movie in middle school and your heart jumped out of your ribcage for the first time and all you could do was hold onto him for your dear life while you screamed bloody murder? You don’t know when these kind of thoughts started entering your head, but you never dwelled on them knowing and fearing that even considering them, acknowledging them in any way, shape, or form would open up a pandora’s box of emotions you’d have to sift through and organize alongside the fact that he’s just your friend, your friend for as long as you can remember, and you weren’t ready for it yet— even after what happened under the table on new year.

For your entire life, Choi Beomgyu has been a friend. A neighbor. An annoyance. Someone you care about. Someone you can’t live without.

And experiencing firsthand a life without his annoying presence always hovering around you cemented the fact that you really can’t risk losing him from your life again. And the likelihood of things going wrong, things getting tangled to the point where you’d have to cut each other off is less when he’s just your friend— just a neighbor, just an annoyance— than when he’s someone more than that.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me to intervene.”

Which is why you feared that if you’d ever admit to yourself that you had feelings for him, that if you’d stopped brushing those feelings away, that risk of losing him would become more than you could handle.

“I just got too angry hearing them talk all that crap.”

But now—

“Ugh. Even thinking about it is making me mad. C’mon, let’s just go.”

You don’t have to keep lying to yourseff anymore. Because who gives a shit about what other people say? Because who gives a shit about risks and fears that are nothing but debris floating around your head?

“Let’s just go home, okay? Let’s head to car, and then—” He stops himself. He lets go of your hand to cup your cheeks, drying up the tears with the warmth of his fingertips. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Nothing is wrong. Because the only thing you give a shit about right now is the fact that the opportunity to love and be loved by Choi Beomgyu only comes once in a lifetime—

“C’mon. You should just forget what Haena and the rest of them said. They’re all nonsense.”

—and spending the entirety of it in denial would just be ridiculous.

“Oh, and now you’re laughing. You’re laughing and crying. Wow, you must’ve gone insane.

Stupid.

“What should I go? Go back? Should I teach them a lesson?”

Pointless.

“Stay here. I’ll go back and—”

Downright impossible.

“Hey, fuckface.”

You tug on his sleeve to stop him from leaving. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you.”

And it feels like air is entering your lungs for the first like, as though twenty years worth of heavy leaden weight has been lifted off your chest. But unlike you, Beomgyo looks like he’s having troube breathing. “Oh,” is all he says, wide-eyed and surprised. Almost as if he’d never been expecting it. Like it had never even crossed his mind that you’d ever say it to him. You, of all people. “W—well—”

“Choi Beomgyu.” You interrupt him befre he could say anything, smacking your palms on both sides of cheeks before the adrenailne leaves your system. Before you could even think twice about anything at all. “I’m sorry I’ve never said it outright before even after we started dating. But you should know that you mean the world to me, you idiot. I’m so in love with you, it makes me stupid. I’m nothing without you.”

This time, it’s him who starts crying.

You let him sink into your arms and bury his face into your shoulder. He drapes himself over while keeping steady around your waist. You hear him sniffle a little. Gross. “Seriously, you’re such a crybaby.”

Beomgyu mumbles an annoyed grunt against your shirt. “And you’re such a meanie for ruining the moment.” He’s glaring at you when he pulls himself up, eyes narrowed and stained red with tears. “Say it again, dipshit.”

“Say what again?”

He frowns. “You know what!”

God. What could you have done in your past life to have been tied together with think punk since the beginning of this one? You roll your eyes and kiss his face. “I’m in love with you, loser. You’re so annoying.”

He grins and lands another one on your lips. “I’m nothing without you, too.”

The streetlight continues to sprinkle its light over the both of you. Choi Beomgyu continues to stay in your life, and he’d keep staying there for as long as this life would let him.

OKAY. MAYBE YOU DO LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. As annoying as he is for wasting your time with how often he calls you up at four in the morning for an impulsive fast food run because he wants some company, for injuring your pride by forcing you to play another one of the games the coding club developed and obliterating your ass in the process, you still like him— beyond understanding or comprehension. 

Even when he’s being such a clingy idiot so early in the morning, in the first day of the semester, after he’d just finished being announcing to the entire campus via the anonymous student board gone un-anonymous that you hadn’t been cheating on him since at that time you weren’t even dating, but you are now, and that you’re in love, and that Jang Seung is just a whiney little bitch who made up rumors because he couldn’t stand being rejected.

“You’re crazy! Why the hell would you do that?!”

Choi Beomgyu rubs his nose while you scold his ears off. When you finish, he simply says. “He made another post about you last night. I think it’s because he saw us on a date the other day. What a loser. Hey, look. That’s him over there.”

Indeed, you do spot Jang Seung while you trace down the hallway, on the way to Horangnabi to spend your vacant period in between your next set of classes.

“Ugh. Just what I needed to make my morning worse.”

He’s with a group, and the group contains Eunseok, the guy you went on a blind date with once and got roped into your whole cheating rumor. He looks greatly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because Jang Seung is talking shit about you and how the both of them got played by you (you did not) when you’ve been going out with Beomgyu this entire time (you were not). Eunseok knows the truth. You talked it out with him before the semester started and he figured you weren’t that kind of person anyway. 

Poor guy wants to leave already.

But Jang Seung seems determined to paint you as a crazy, cheating, boy-crazy whore. Did ignoring his texts for one night injure his ego that much? And here you thought you were prideful. You know that things have died down and at this point people have either forgotten about the whole thing or just don’t care anymore, but the small crowd Seung managed to collect still seemed to be thriving in all the overinflated gossip.

“I mean, if she wasn’t all that into me, she could’ve said so, you know? Still, can you believe she picked that guy over me or you? And the poor cuck even has the guts to publicly announce their relationship like some idiot after she’d been hooking up with his friends.”

“Damn. How are they still together?”

“Quit spreading lies, dude. ”

“Hey, how can you just trust everything she tells you?”

“I still can’t believe that those two are still together, much less even started dating in the first place.”

Normally, you’d just ignore this. But you’ve gotten a bit sick and tired of biting your tongue and behaving as of late.

You march up to them. Eunseok spurs out a greeting. You give all of them a smile— mostly directed at Jang Seung, who’s been relishing the fact that you never gave him the light of day since the stunt he pulled. Until today, at least.

“Hi,” you start. The guy flinches at your delivery. “As much as it surprises you, yes I’m dating Choi Beomgyu. Yes, we’re fucking together, and I never cheated on him with a some half-baked, second-string loser like this bastard who resorts to high school tactics of spreading gossip because his fragile ego couldn’t handle being left on delivered for one night because I had a hospital emergency. Unfortunately, someone like that isn’t my type at all.”

Jang Seung’s face flushes scarlet. His jaw clenches and he barks out, “Hey, what the fuck—” until Eunseok fixes him on the spot by the shoulder. 

“But just to clarify things. No, I have not been cheating on him and you’d think that if I had, he would say so, wouldn’t he? How the fuck could I have cheated on him last year when he only started dating on January first?” 

Okay. You’re getting a little heated. Jang Seung and his group are now staring at you like you’re a crazy person. Beyond them, other people in the hallway have started to pay attention to the ruckus you’re causing.

Now, when a fuse is lit, it’s not easy to kill it.

So you continue talking. For better or for worse.

“Yes. Yes, I’m now dating Choi Beomgyu— are you all satisfied? Are you happy now? You’ve all been up in my fucking business since the first fucking semester asking if I knew him, if he and I were dating, so here’s your god damned answer! Do you want me to tell you how it happened, too? Give you a play by play of how I met him, knew, him and fell for him because you’re all so fucking curious? Should I do that? In fact, why don’t I keep you guys posted! I should just text every single god damned person who knows not how to mind their business to update you whenever, each and every single time we fucking—”

“Whoa, easy there.”

You’re yanked back by Choi Beomgyu, who has one arm hooked in front of your collar shoulders and safely pressing you close to his torso. His free hand is covering the muffled noises coming out of your mouth as you struggle out of his grip.

Beomgyu simply lets you struggle in vain. He looks ahead, smiling at Jang Seung and the rest of the people in the group. “As much as I wanted to continue listening to her, I don’t really want any more people anonymously talking shit about my girlfriend in the forum just for living her own life and minding her own business.” You’re still squirming in his grip. This fucking bastard. “Anyway, we’re off. Eunseok, see you around.”

It’s only when you two have managed to leave the building that Beomgyu decides it’s time to release you. “Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, you jerk?” you yell, yanking him down by the backpack strap.

“What do you think? Saving your ass from any more rumors, stupid,” he answers while shaking you off. “We should really work on your temper.”

It’s a pleasant walk to Horangnabi. You haven’t been here again in ages.

“I have been working on it! Today was an exemption, so go fuck yourself off.”

“This is exactly what I mean,” he sighs and shakes his head, opening the cafe door for you to enter first, and he follows immediately after. “Potty mouth and a nasty personality. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Your mother must have had a hard time raising you.”

“Quit bringing up my mother every single time you want to win an argument.”

You two find some empty seats right by the window in the right wing of the store. You sit down and set your things on the empty seats. “I can’t just give up on my cheat code, you know,” Beomgyu hums, smiling insufferably as slides the menu down from the table surface. “So, do I win? What’s my prize?”

“Hey, no PDA within store premises! I’ll blacklist you two!”

The both of you turn your heads to see Heeseung, who’s holding a notepad and wearing the employee apron as a uniform. He started working part-time at Horangnabi sometime last month. Extra pocket money, he says. You know it’s because he started seeing someone from the arts department and needed the date funds. Usually, he’d be happy to see you, but something’s gotten in his panties in a twist today. You snicker, about to egg him on, but to your surprise, someone else answers your curiosities.

“He’s just salty because he got dumped over the break.”

Your eyes brighten. You beam out a smile. “Julie!” 

She arrives with a pat on a grumbling Heeseung’s back as she mirrors your expression. “Hi, pretty girl. How was your break?” She moves on from Heeseung to coddle you with attention, hugging you from behind your chair. Have you considered working for us again? I started missing you more ever since this guy started working with us again.”

“Must be bad at the job,” Beomgyu snorts. Heeseung’s protests are left unheard. “Hey, when are you gonna take our order?”

“Ugh. I set you two up together and this is how you repay me?”

Heeseung takes your orders— an americano for him, a matcha latte for you, and a butterscotch croissant for you two to share. While waiting, Beomgyu takes out some of his notebooks from his bags and starts highlighting the pages based on the syllabus his professor handed them earlier. Wow, he’s become diligent, whereas you’re busying yourself with your phone in the midst of a conversation with Chaeryeong. She was so sorry for passing out in the middle of the reunion incident a few ago, and it was Seungmin who filled her in on what happened. She says gonna treat you to dinner this weekend to make up for it. You smile and text her that you look forward to it.

“Iced americano, matcha latte and butterscotch croissant.”

Hanbin is the one who delivers your orders. You thank him with a smile and he leaves with a pat on your head, telling you to come visit the clubroom later. 

“Stop smiling at him like that.”

You turn your attention back to the person sitting in front of you— Choi Beomgyu, with his arms crossed over the books scattered on his table, coupled with a pout and furrowed brows. “Ew, are you jealous?” you snark, picking up your latte from the table and taking a sip. “Wipe that look off your face. It doesn’t suit you. And Hanbin is way too nice and normal to be my type. Unfortunately, god made me like guys who are the slightest bit insane.”

“I keep your life interesting,” he hums out with a proud grin, satisfied with your answer. You set your drink back down, a thought entering your head. It’s quiet in Horangnabi. You two are the only customers at the moment, and soft music siphons through the speakers.

Ever since that day in the beginning of the year, not much has changed between you and him. He’s still calling you names. He’s still annoyingly hooking your feet underneath the table with his so that you’d have a hard time getting up.

It makes you wonder when exactly did he start seeing you differently.

“Beomgyu,” you start. He perks up, a curious expression on his face. “What if I tell you I’ve sort of already had the idea that you’ve had feelings for me since, I don’t know— when we made up after our fight last year?”

He blinks at you, curious expression replaced by something unreadable. You start to grow a little nervous. Then he drops the bomb.

“What if I tell you these feelings have been around since middle school?”

Well, damn.

“That...that would make a lot of sense.”

He only laughs in response, reorganizing his books and setting them aside. “But if you’ve known since then, then wooow— I can’t believe you’ve been leading me on for that long.” He’s shaking his head and clicking his tongue. You groan and cover your face guiltily. He laughs once more. “I’m kidding. It’s not like I didn’t put any effort into hiding it. I know how uncomfortable you got because of all the people gossiping about our relationship. I’d just make things even harder for you if I suddenly confessed.”

With the table now cleared, he slides down the untouched pastry to your side of the table.

“So, I just decided to try and hide it and wait for the right time. If that time ever would ever come, that is,” he continues. “But since you’ve known, I guess I wasn’t exactly doing a good job in hiding how I feel.” 

Your eyes linger at the crescent roll. You take the fork and knife and reply, “Yeah, you’re not very slick.”

“Hey, it was very hard for me, you know!” he huffs, pouting. You slice into the croissant and stab the smaller piece with the fork. “I felt like dying whenever you mentioned that bastard Seung or Song, or whatever. And you even asked me to set me up with my friends. You’re so mean—”

You reach an arm over the table. Beomgyu stares at your offering— a little surprised, a little flustered, but he clears his throat and leans forward, taking a bite from the pastry before wiping his mouth with a napkin, eyes down, face flushed.

He can be cute sometimes. You set the fork back down on the plate. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“T—tsk. I’m just cool like that, you know?” Still insufferable. You roll your eyes and grab a piece of the pastry yourself, but while the mood is still high, Beomgyu takes the opportunity to speak his own mind too, bringing up one more thing that had been lingering in the back of both of your minds. “That night— you know, on new year’s when you said that we should just start dating— I knew you just said it in the heat of the moment.” The pastry gets stuck in your throat. “And I knew at that moment that you’d end up taking it back as a joke and laugh it all off. I didn’t really want to hear that. So I just...decided to speak before you could take it back.”

Ah. Your face is getting hot. You swipe your drink from the table to swallow your emotions down. But Choi Beomgyu manages to snatch your hand before you could do that.

“And you didn’t take it back.”

Your flustered gaze flashes up at him. His eyes remain on you.

“So you just have no choice but to deal with all of this.”

He presses a kiss onto the back of your palm. You yelp and snatch your hand back, cheeks burning and heart racing. He’s grinning like a madman.

“Stop it! We’re in public. God, I hate you, you’re such a dweeb—”

You say you hate him, but he knows you don’t mean it. You’ve been saying all these years that you don’t like him, that he’s just an annoyance, destined to bother you until the end of time— but he’s come to know that none of that is true.

“No one’s here anyway! Heeseung doesn’t count as a person!”

You don’t have to keep pretending that you don’t like Choi Beomgyu. Because in fact, you kind of, really, do.

AFTERWORD. hello….whoo whee this was quite a ride wasn’t it HAHAHAHHAHA. 49k words of choi beomgyu being the only man ever 😞😞😞 anyhow, i hope you all enjoyed what i believe is my best piece yet!!! writing this was both extremely easy and difficult because hannie-dul-set enjoyers know that my brand is usually silly stupid fics, but the emotional weight of this one did make it a bit difficult for me to write sometimes since i’m a mood writer, even though none of the themes are inherently sad? just very very emotional HHAHAHAHA. two of the most challenging parts too in the planning process was how…i’d be able to depict a change in their relationship after the new year’s scene, while also making sure that beomgyu and mc’s dynamic is still…them, you know? it wouldn’t be them if they just became gross and lovey dovey overnight. it wouldn’t be them if they still didn’t call each other names and swore at each other’s faces despite being horrendously in love. but i think i managed to reconcile these two aspects pretty well in the fic.

the other challenging thing i had to tackle might have been a point of frustration for you guys— making sure that mc’s narration and monologue is completely devoid of any acknowledgement about her feelings for beomgyu and vice versa HAHHAHAHAHHA. but it was necessary because she herself didn’t want to acknowledge, even after they started dating, and the entire thing is written in her pov.

speaking of pov….i think a spin-off written in beomgyu’s pov would be nice after all of this. we only got some bits and pieces of how he’d been feeling all throughout and though i believe the limited information i’ve given is enough to give the idea on how beomgyu was faring all throughout, it would also be interesting to delve into his psyche, all the way from mogi to nabi.

anyhow, those are just empty plans for now HAHAHAHAHAH i hope you enjoyed all three parts of nabi— a sequel i never even intended to write in the first place, but ended up being one of my works that’s closest to my heart. please please do send in your thoughts in the comments, asks, dm’s, wherever!

happy new year! love you all!

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[angelikook]

Red String of Fate

Pairing(s): Janitor and delivery person!Yoongi x college student!reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, e2l-ish, college au-ish, soulmate au-ish

Word Count: 10.7k

Warning(s): Profanity, alcohol use

Summary: The red string of fate connects two enemies. However, Yoongi’s red string, which is attached to Y/n, suddenly disappears after he meets her the second time.

A/n This fic officially marks my comeback to Tumblr *insert applause here 👏* After years of hiatus, my life finally settles a bit so I can continue what I've always loved. I had so much fun writing this one. Enjoy! This fic is still unedited though, I'll edit it ASAP.

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There were three things that Yoongi wished didn’t exist. One, flat-earthers. Two, anti vaxxers. And three, the red string of fate.

During 21 years of his life, he learned that not only the red string of fate foresaw the relationship of two people, but also the fact that it predicted hostility between them and not romance like what those legends had said. Not to mention the disturbing fact that he could see them for as far as he could remember.

He’d seen his parents divorced, his two best friends fought one another, and even random people argued on the street. And what was the similarity of all of them? That damned red string that was attached between the people involved. The sure sign that those people would go their separate ways sooner or later.

As he went about his typical Saturday which consisted of getting ready for work, doing some deliveries, and depositing some money to his parents’ bank account, he noticed the absence of his red string. With an almost inhuman speed, he finished the rest of his routine and called his only friend.

The door jingled as he pushed the door open. In an instant, a smell of coffee entered his nostrils. He couldn’t help but to take a long whiff, enjoying the rich aroma.

Upon seeing him walking in, the boy who stood behind the counter grinned at him. “Take a seat. I’ll come to you in a bit.”

He strode to his favorite spot in the cafe, at the far corner near the window where he could watch the pedestrians outside.

The boy who was once behind the counter turned the store sign to ‘closed’, turned off some of the lights, and made some drinks before sauntering to Yoongi with two cups in hand.

“Sorry for meeting you at this time, Tae. I honestly don’t know what to do if you are busy.”

“No worries. It’s not like I’ve other things to do after this.” The boy placed a cup in front of Yoongi.

“Thanks,” Yoongi mumbled. “Won’t your boss be angry if you have a guest here?”

“Nope. In fact, she encourages us to have guests. To introduce the cafe to more people, she said.”

“Good marketing strategy.”

“I know right. So, what do you wanna talk about?”

Yoongi told the boy in front of him about his day. From the moment he woke up, until the time he texted his friend to meet up with extra detail when he realized his string had disappeared.

He was just finished with the second to the last delivery. The lady who received the food thanked him and went back inside her house. He took it as a cue for him to continue with his last delivery.

It was when he was checking the next address when he felt something was missing.

He patted his pockets to look for his phone, wallet, and keys which were still intact. He made sure he didn’t forget the food he needed to deliver. He even checked his phone in case there was a task he’d forgotten to do.

But he found none.

With head full of confusion, trying to remember what was missing, he drove to the last address.

Five minutes away from the last place he needed to go, at a traffic light, his eyes fell to his left pinky, the place where his red string attached to him. The place where there was no longer a red string.

His eyes were big as saucers as he inspected his pinky.

During 21 years of his life, there was not a single time, as far as he knew, in which the red string ever disappeared. It could twist, bend, stretch, and become thinner, but never disappear. It could even fade sometimes, but could never vanish.

He looked around to see other road users. Their red strings were glaringly obvious. Some even had a deep red color.

He sighed though not all his worries went away.

He didn’t lose his ability, just his string.

“Oh my God! I just realized that your string is very much gone.”

“Do you have an idea of what this means? Or what caused this to happen?”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “It’s your fault for not joining our weekly meeting.”

Yoongi met Taehyung at a club specifically made for people who can see the red string. He didn’t know what made him join the club, but he could probably blame his curiosity for that.

“I have work. Plus, it’s not like you understand what’s going on either after attending them.”

“Touché. But, do you know who’s at the other end?”

“I knew about it a few weeks ago.”

How stupid of him to ignore the weather forecast this morning. It said that there was going to be a thunderstorm. Yoongi just realized how accurate the forecaster was as the rain hit against the library's windows loudly.

His shift as the campus’ janitor had ended an hour ago, but since the rain didn’t let him go home and he was stupid enough not to bring an umbrella, he decided to wait in the library until the rain subside.

Every now and then, a thunder illuminated the dimly lit library before breaking in an ear-splitting noise. And every time it happened, he couldn't help but to wince even after hearing it for the nth time in the past hour.

He was sitting on the floor in the corner while gripping the encyclopedia on his lap. His mind couldn't cooperate for the last few minutes. He'd been reading the same line for countless times now and he grew agitated.

On the next aisle, a couple had been arguing for the past five minutes. And as much as Yoongi didn't like to eavesdrop, he had no headphones he could use to cover his ears.

"So, going out with my best friend behind my back was your brilliant solution?" the girl half-yelled.

They had been half-yelling the entire time. They knew that they weren't allowed to be loud here, yet they still chose a library out of all places to have an argument. That ticked Yoongi off.

"She came to me first, okay? I didn't know you weren't there. She said you were coming along," the boy defended himself.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. Of course a cheater would make up stupid reasons.

“Here’s what’s going wrong. One, you could leave her once you knew. Two, you could tell me you were with her. Three, you could cross-check with me first. And you did nothing out of all three.”

Yoongi smirked and nodded in agreement though he knew well they couldn’t see him. It was exactly what he’d say in a situation like that. He liked this girl, they had a similar way of thinking.

Yoongi suddenly grew curious at what the girl looked like. He scooted closer towards their voices and peeked between the books on the shelf.

Just like what he’d imagined, the girl was gorgeous. Or, at least as gorgeous as a sleep deprived college student can be.

She had a cute nose and lips, and bright eyes despite looking tired and sleepy. Dark eyebags and fading eyeliner decorated her eyes. Her hair glistened under the dim light, probably still wet due to the rain. Her pink lipstick also started to wear off, showing off her natural chapped lips.

The boy grew quiet for a bit. “Sorry, babe. It won’t happen again.”

She snorted. “I know. Because there’s no such thing as next time. Bye.”

As she walked off, his eyes trained down to her pinky, a habit he’d had because of the stupid ‘talent’ he had. He followed the red string on her pinky to the other end of the string, another habit he’d had because he was full of curiosity.

Most of the time he couldn’t see the other end, since enemies usually weren’t within sight with each other. This time, though, he kinda hoped that hers would connect to the boy she was dating. That way, it’d explain why they broke up.

Not as expected, her string ended on his pinky.

“Do you hate her?” Taehyung asked after sipping on his hot chocolate.

“Nope.”

“Maybe that’s why the string disappeared?” Taehyung suggested. “The string only connects enemies. Maybe if it makes a mistake like this, it’ll disappear.”

“Can the string make a mistake?”

Taehyung shrugged. “You don’t hate her, though.”

“But why didn’t it disappear right then, why today?”

Taehyung bit his lip, deep in thought. “Did something happen today?”

“Not today, but I met her yesterday.”

He was late to work and his dead watch was to blame. Somehow it slipped his mind to change the batteries and now he had to deal with his own stupidity.

As he scurried to campus, someone accidentally crashed into him from behind. His tattered bag fell and spilled its contents.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry!" A girl crouched beside him and helped him pick up his stuff.

"It's okay," he replied timidly.

Right as he put the last thing into his bag, the girl's friend, who since then only loomed over them in silence, clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"Can you be faster? I have a presentation in 10 minutes."

When Yoongi and the girl stood up, he finally got the chance to see who the girl's friend was. Their connected red string only confirmed it further.

Since the last time Yoongi saw her, she was in a worse condition. A cup of coffee was in one hand, a laptop in the other. Her eyes were puffy and dried tears were visible in her cheeks. Unlike back then at the library, she didn't wear any makeup. She wore an old oversized sweater which looked older than Yoongi's seven years old bag with a pair of washed up jeans that were baggy in weird places.

The girl who helped him snapped back at her, "That's your own fault for having a midlife crisis this morning."

The library girl only linked her arm around the girl's arm and dragged her.

He knew she was supposed to be his enemy, but for the rest of the day Yoongi couldn't help but to wonder what happened to her. His curiosity got the best of him now that he knew she was on the other end of his string.

Did she have another relationship problem? Or maybe her ex pleaded to get back together again? Or maybe just college stuff?

"You didn't ask her name?"

"She was in a hurry,” Yoongi defended himself.

"Still. I think we need as much information as possible, and a trusted person."

"Like who?"

"Namjoon."

"The club's leader? Are you kidding me?"

"Hey! He might be the only one who knows about this ordeal."

"But you're talking to him." It wasn’t a question.

Taehyung shook his head. "No. You talk to him."

"We're talking to him."

"Fine."

Despite Namjoon’s busy schedule and Yoongi’s multiple jobs, meeting him was easier than Yoongi had initially thought. One day he just texted him and not five minutes later Namjoon replied to meet up the next day after his shift ended. Just as promised, Taehyung came as a moral support and to provide with drinks.

After hearing Yoongi’s story, which was occasionally added by Taehyung with small details, Namjoon frowned. He bit his bottom lip and his eyes became unfocused.

“Do you think you can help us?” Yoongi asked after a minute of silence, already expecting a negative answer from the way the leader was behaving.

Namjoon’s eyes focused back to Yoongi’s. “I’m not sure. I’ve read something about this, but there wasn’t any more research about that. Maybe I can ask the previous leaders and see if they know about it.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“You said you knew who was on the other end. Can you bring her here? Maybe she knows something.”

“He doesn’t know her name, though,” Taehyung chimed in before Yoongi could say anything.

“That’s fine. Take as much time needed. I need to talk to the previous leaders anyway. Just tell me once you’re ready.”

“Joon,” Taehyung called him, catching his attention. “Is it possible that the string is wrong? Yoongi doesn’t hate her and that’s why the string disappeared?”

Taehyung’s question echoed in his mind for days on end. If his theory was right, then why was the string still there on the day at the library? Why didn’t it disappear right away? And what was going to happen now that his string was gone?

But one more question stood out the most to him. How could he ask for her to come with him without sounding creepy?

With the clock struck seven, his shift had ended and he could go home. He changed out of his uniform and walked towards the campus’ exit where there were some students still lingering.

He rolled his eyes at them. ‘Those kids are so lucky to be able to get an education at a place like this and they’re probably unaware of it,’ he thought.

Right as he was about to step out the door, a poster caught his eyes. More specifically, a face he’d grown to recognize just caught his eyes.

The poster was talking about a speech that was going to be held in a week’s time. The speech was going to be about the importance of vaccines and would be attended by some famous speakers. He knew one of the speakers.

It was the library girl. But unlike at the library nor in front of the campus, she wore a bright smile. She flashed her teeth, her eyes twinkled. Her makeup was perfectly done, thanks to meticulous makeup artists who took time with her face.

Underneath her photo, her name was printed in bold. Y/n L/n.

Yoongi gasped as he read her name again and again. He even tried how her name tasted in his mouth when he said it.

Her name was exactly like herself. Sweet, but not too sweet, with a hint of salty for her sharp words. It was closest to salted caramel in his mind.

But what was more important was the fact that he’d found her name. He grinned to himself at the thought. His only feat left was to talk to her and ask her to meet Namjoon.

The speech was held after the lunch break, which meant he got half a day to plan what to say to her. However, since he woke up, his mind had been a cloudy mess, he couldn’t think straight.

He tried to jot down possible things he could say to Y/n, but his clammy hand kept wetting his paper. He tried to type his thoughts on his phone, but his supervisor caught him playing on his phone and scolded him. All his efforts were futile in the end. His mind, paper, and phone notes were still as empty as they were this morning.

The night before, he’d talked to Namjoon and Taehyung, but both were as helpful as his empty mind.

“Just say whatever. It’s better if you tell her we’ll be talking about the red string,” Namjoon had said.

“Tell us how it goes, okay?” was the only thing Taehyung said.

When the time arrived, he waited in front of the campus’ hall where the speech was held.

Through the glass doors, he could see Y/n and a couple other speakers he didn’t care for. He couldn’t hear what they said, though. They took turns to speak, each more passionate than the speaker before them until the time Y/n stepped to the center of the stage.

All these time Yoongi only saw the angry, sad, and tired Y/n to the point he’d internalized the idea that she was like that most of the time. This was the first time he saw her speaking in front of hundreds of audience with a burning passion.

From outside where he couldn’t hear a single thing, he still felt moved and inspired by just seeing her hand gestures alone. He couldn’t imagine what it felt to be able to listen to her speech.

When she was done with her speech and bowed to the audience, they erupted in cheers and clapped their hands.

The event quickly ended with the MC saying some closing speech. With that, the crowd left the hall one by one not even minding Yoongi who was standing outside. Only a couple of faculty members and students still lingered inside, chatting animatedly with the speakers.

A pang of jealousy coursed through him at the sight of them. If money wasn’t a problem for him, he would have had a higher education just like these people. And to be reminded that those students were around his age made him sullen.

Among all the people inside, Y/n was the first to leave the hall. Looked like lady luck was on Yoongi’s side today since Y/n left all alone.

Yoongi quickly snatched his only chance and approached her.

“Hi. You’re Y/n, right?”

“Hi. Yeah, I am. And you are?” Her honey voice was sweeter than what he’d heard at the library. He could tell from her voice alone that her mood was definitely better than the last time he saw her.

“Yoongi. I’m the campus’ journalist.” At this point he just spewed out lies and he thought he was quite good at it. “Can we talk for a bit?”

“Sure. About what?”

“I was listening to your speech earlier,” another lie, “and I think you’re strongly opinionated,” not a lie. “I’m wondering if I can interview you? It’s gonna be about the red string.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “The red string?”

Yoongi involuntarily gulped in fear Y/n would reject him.

“I don’t think I have anything to say about that, I’m sorry.”

His heart dropped.

Y/n was about to leave when Yoongi spoke up again, “Umm… It’s okay. We’re going to compile different opinions into one anyways, so if you don’t have a lot to say about it, that’s fine.”

“Oh.” Y/n stopped in her tracks. “When’s the interview then? Is it now? Because if it’s now, I have-”

“No, don’t worry. We can have the interview anytime you’re free. Plus, I won’t be the one interviewing you, an expert or something will ask the questions and I’m just gonna sum them up.”

Y/n nodded. “Can we do it tonight? Maybe around eight after the classes end?”

Technically, Yoongi could, but he didn’t know whether Namjoon was free or not.

“I need to ask the interviewer first. Make sure they’re free and all.”

“Good!”

Yoongi pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Can I have your number?”

Asking for a girl’s number was an achievement he didn’t know he would reach.

Y/n punched in her number and gave the phone back to him. “What’s your name again?”

Yoongi put his phone back into his pocket. “Yoongi.”

The walk to the cafe Taehyung worked at was as awkward as it could get. Two people who just knew each other for a couple of hours walking together, not knowing what to say to break the tension. Not to mention this was Yoongi’s first time walking with a girl.

Yoongi didn’t know whether he should feel lucky or not with Y/n trying to start small talks between them. Lucky because he didn’t have to come up with a topic, unlucky because he had to keep building lies upon lies.

“What year are you in?” Y/n kicked a small rock away from her path.

Yoongi counted in his head. 21 years olds usually were in their third year.

“Third. You?”

“Same. What are you studying?”

“I’m in art. Music.” In his defense, he did music in his free time, so he wasn’t exactly lying.

Y/n halted in her tracks. “Music?”

Uh, oh. Did he just say something wrong?

Yoongi also stopped walking and gave Y/n a questioning look.

“As far as I know, there’s no music major here.”

“Umm… I mean I’m studying art, but also join the music club.”

Y/n started walking again. “I see.”

Yoongi sighed in relief. Nice save.

“What-” The words caught in his throat. “What about you?”

“Science.”

The interview went pretty much the same. Only a series of questions and short answers. She was right when she said she didn’t have anything to say about the red string.

“Do you believe the red string?”

“No.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Not much.”

“Like?”

“Some people can see it.”

“And?”

“It connects soulmates.”

Yoongi stifled a laugh. If only life wasn’t so cruel, it would happen.

“What if I tell you I can see the red string?”

Y/n shrugged. “Good for you.”

“You don’t wanna know to whom yours is connected?”

And other questions that Yoongi had tuned out in boredom. From his peripheral vision, Y/n was holding back a yawn as if to confirm to him that the interview was indeed boring. The now cold coffee in front of them did nothing to keep them alert.

Thanks to his ability to ignore his surroundings for long periods of time, the interview came to an end before he knew it.

Namjoon glanced at the clock before closing his notebook. “It’s almost 10. Sorry to keep you until late.” He stood up and shook Y/n’s hand. “Thank you for helping us.”

“No problem,” Y/n said, though her eyes were starting to droop.

Yoongi was trying hard to hold his smile. It was a rare sight to see someone so tired they barely could keep their eyes open.

Worry and realization clawed at his heart at the sight of Y/n. With a little money he had in his pocket, he had to pay for her favor. Not pay directly with money, because that would be rude. But maybe give her something that she needed.

As if on cue, he heard Y/n’s stomach rumble as they said their goodbyes.

That was it! He could buy her food as a thank you.

He only had money to feed one person, though. It was supposed to be his dinner.

Yoongi bit his lip in confusion. He needed to pay tonight because he didn’t know if they were going to meet again. Plus, going without food for one night wouldn’t be that bad for his health, right? He could just start breakfast earlier the next morning.

He had made up his mind.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna eat?” Y/n asked after swallowing her burger. In front of her, Yoongi could only stare at her food while drooling.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You can take my fries.” She pushed her fries towards Yoongi. “I don’t eat fries. They make me fat.”

He gratefully shoved one into his mouth, savouring it before chewing on it. “And burger doesn’t?”

“Well, it contains meat and lettuce, so it’s not 100% carbs.”

Yoongi silently nodded though he was sure a burger contains more calories.

“How come I never see you on campus?” Y/n asked.

They had been walking towards her place for a while and Y/n refused an awkward silence to fill the air.

“We’re in different buildings, remember?”

This wasn’t a lie. Yoongi indeed worked most of the time in the arts building, a solid 100 meters away from the science building.

“Right. I keep forgetting that. Sorry.” Y/n giggled. As cliché as that sounds, her laugh sounded like bells in his ears.

“Don’t be sorry. No one really cares about art majors.”

Her giggles died down. “I care. I think art is a great way to make a statement. Not to mention it transcends all language barriers. A great media to change the world, isn’t it?”

That was definitely a view of art that Yoongi had never heard before. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t stunned at her words.

“Wow,” Yoongi eventually blurted. No wonder she was giving a speech a few hours ago.

Y/n stopped in front of a huge gate belonging to an apartment building before turning to him.

“Thank you for the food and for taking me home. I owe you one.” She smiled.

“No. Take the food as a thank you for helping me with my article.” At this point, lies came flowing out of his mouth. “And taking you home is just something normal everyone does.”

“Still. I gave you a favor, but you gave me two. It’s only right if I pay you somehow.”

“I want to, though. It helps me sleep at night.”

Yoongi stared at Y/n’s eyes. They were droopy and red from sleepiness, but still held sincerity. Before he drowned in her eyes, he pulled himself back and nodded.

“Okay.”

That night, Yoongi fell asleep with a half-empty stomach and a full heart.

The next few days went by as usual. Wake up, get ready, go to work, go home, sleep. No Namjoon, no Y/n, nor Taehyung in his mind. He was truly back to his boring life before his string disappeared.

The only difference was the ringing noise of Y/n’s words in his ears. ‘Art is a great way to make a statement.’

All these times, he only did art—music—because it was all he knew. He’d known of the possibility of making a statement with music, people had brought politics and social issues into their songs, but he wasn’t brave enough to challenge himself with those issues. He always thought that only famous or rich people were allowed to make such statements.

Yoongi’s next interaction with Y/n was in the form of a text.

Hey, Yoon. Sorry for disturbing you. But I’m curious whether my interview will make it to the campus’ newspaper.

He quickly made up another lie.

Hey. It’s fine. The team decided to change the topic, sorry. Kinda sad, I know.

Y/n instantly replied.

But you’ve worked hard for this! Can’t you say anything to them?

Oh, how he wished he could. Problem was, he wasn’t even a student here.

No convincing will do. They have made up their mind.

Y/n sent in two messages.

That’s inefficient journalism, wasting perfectly good interviews.

Before he got the chance to read Y/n’s second message, his supervisor warned him to put his phone down.

He only got the chance to read the message after his shift ended.

I think it’s the right time for me to pay you back, don’t you think?

Ice cream definitely wasn’t the first thing that came to his mind when Y/n said she wanted to pay him back. He was thinking something like paying for his bus ride home, or maybe buying him some food just like what he did for her. Basically anything that would be more useful than just a sweet dessert that couldn’t even fill an empty stomach.

He wasn’t one to complain, though. In his defense, he hadn’t had one in a long time; he didn’t even remember when was the last time he ate one. He was rather happy to break his long streak with Y/n.

“Something’s wrong with the journalism club,” Y/n said before putting a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

“How so?”

Y/n waved her spoon around. “How redundant to have a person interview a bunch of people only to change the topic in the end?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Things happen.”

“Does this happen often? If yes, that’s crazy.”

“I don’t think so.”

Y/n snorted. “You probably wanna keep your club’s secret. I understand.” Y/n angrily scooped her ice cream. “Aren’t you angry at being mistreated like this?”

“To be honest, I don’t care. It’s not like I like this club anyways.”

“You should leave the club, then. Do something you actually like instead of rotting in that club.”

Yoongi just nodded. What else could he do? He wasn’t even a member to begin with.

“What do you like to do? You said something about the music club.”

“Yeah. I do music in my free time although I’m not that active in the club.”

“Do you do gigs?”

Finally a topic he didn’t need to lie about.

Yoongi answered after he swallowed, “I don’t do that type of music. I don’t perform. I produce music.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “This is the first time I know a music producer. What's it like to produce music?”

Yoongi told her about the first time he learned how to produce music, who taught him that, and even where he learned that. He was 13 at the time and a neighbor offered to show him how to produce music. It was the first time he knew music, it was love at first sight.

“I think it’s great for you to know what you wanna do,” Y/n commented after he finished his story.

“That’s the thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to pursue it deeper but I don’t know how.”

“You can take up producing jobs?” she suggested.

It was time for him to open up. “There’s this entertainment company looking for an intern, but I don’t know if I can squeeze some time for that.”

Y/n’s face that was once relaxed, now became stern. “Are you sure you want to produce music your whole life?”

It was the same question his parents had asked him when he told them he wanted to do music.

He nodded.

The creases in Y/n’s face disappeared as she leaned back in her seat. “There you have it. Clear up your schedule and run for your dreams. If it’s worth it, you make time for it.”

That was the cue he needed to send his CV.

Despite his protests of not wanting to disturb her time, Y/n met Yoongi after her classes ended just a few days after he sent his CV.

Y/n grinned immediately upon seeing Yoongi in front of the campus’ gates.

“Have you seen the results?”

Yoongi shook his head, not trusting his voice.

“What are you waiting for? Open it!” Y/n peered into Yoongi’s phone.

With clammy, shaky hands, he opened the email and read the message.

Dear Min Yoongi,

We’ve read your CV and would like to discuss more with you on Tuesday, July 6th, 2021 at 13:00.

Regards,

Go Youngjae

He was still registering the message and rereading it over and over again when Y/n jumped and yelled, “This calls for a celebration!”

Y/n, her yellings, and people watching them thinking they were weirdos were all around him, yet his mind was clouded with the words from the message.

Only when Y/n grabbed his shoulders to grab his attention he was brought back to reality.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Huh? A celebration?”

Y/n nodded so enthusiastically he worried she would accidentally hurt her neck.

“Okay, then.”

Y/n took a sip of her beer. “I’m jealous of you.”

Around them were bustling with people coming home from their work to eat.

“How?”

“You’re talented enough to achieve your dreams.”

“I’m not accepted yet.”

“Yet,” Y/n emphasized. “It’s just a matter of time before you work there.”

Yoongi frowned. “What do you wanna do then?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know,” she whisper-yelled before taking a large gulp of beer. “And people think we’re adults who are supposed to know what we’re doing.” Y/n snorted.

Yoongi sipped on his own beer while nodding. Sometimes people around him forgot that he was a 21 years old kid who still needed guidance on life. Just because he had two jobs, didn’t mean he knew what he was doing.

“Are you happy with your life right now?” he asked.

Y/n shrugged. “I’d like to think so.”

“Then keep doing what you’re doing.” He knew his advice didn’t help, but he wasn’t graced with the talent to console people.

“I can’t keep being a student.” Y/n laughed in frustration. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “In a year, we’ll graduate. And then what? It’s all black for me while you’re interning. At least you have direction while I’m still as blind as a bat.”

“That sounds depressing.”

“Because it is!” Y/n whined before taking another sip. “Sorry to ruin your celebration with my sad girl problems. Let’s just talk about you.”

Oh, Y/n didn’t know how much he’d rather have his celebration ruined by Y/n than to celebrate on his own.

In between her fading makeup, he could see Y/n’s face started to turn pinkish. Out of courtesy, he gently pulled her beer away from her.

“I think you’re tipsy.”

“No, I’m not.” Y/n reached back for her beer but it was out of reach. “Give it back.”

He argued with something he knew she wouldn’t refute, “You’ll ruin our celebration even further if you’re drunk.”

That kept her sober for the rest of the night.

“I think you’re too keen for celebrations,” Yoongi commented as he eyed Y/n with a bottle of wine. He didn’t even want to know how much it cost a fortune to buy that.

“Who doesn’t like to celebrate?” Y/n sat on her couch and patted the space beside her. “Don’t just stand there. Sit down!”

It was just a few hours after his interview. While he didn’t want to assume how well it went, Y/n believed it went pretty well. In her defense, had the interview gone wrong, he wouldn’t be here in her apartment, he would be crying away in his bedroom. Thus, Y/n convinced him to have another celebration.

Y/n couch was soft to the touch and probably cost more than his kidneys, he felt bad of having to sit on it and potentially dirtying it. But Y/n didn’t pay attention to it while she poured the wine into his glass.

“We have work tomorrow.” He immediately corrected himself with a cough. “Class, I mean.”

“We won’t drink a lot.” She handed him his glass. “Just one glass.”

Yoongi took the glass. “Just one glass.”

But of course one glass turned to two, and three, and a morning full of confusion and hangover.

Yoongi woke up startled. He sat up and gasped for air. His head was killing him, as if someone was hammering his head. His throat was dry, as dry as the desert. More importantly, he didn’t know where he was until the memory of the night before came rushing into his head.

Y/n pouring his drink, laughing at something silly he said, leaned closer and closer to him as her awareness slipped away little by little. And the feeling of her chapped lips on his.

He choked on his saliva. Did he really just kiss her? Or was it just a dream?

His fingers lingered on his lips, trying to remember the taste of Y/n’s lips.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a familiar voice emerged from the kitchen. “Are you thinking about the kiss?”

Yoongi stared at the girl sitting on the dining table.

“Relax, nothing happened. Just a drunken kiss.” She shrugged before shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

How could she talk about the kiss so lightly? Or maybe he was reading too much into it while the kiss really didn’t mean anything.

“Does that happen often?” he croaked. He winced, he really needed to drink.

As if reading his mind, Y/n grabbed a glass of water and gestured to it, ushering him to take it.

Yoongi slowly got up from the couch, hissed when his headache flared, and walked to the dining table.

“Being drunk or the kiss?”

“The drunken kiss.”

She snorted. “Can you believe it? I don’t get drunk that often and I don’t kiss people every time I’m drunk.”

“You were almost drunk a few days ago.” Yoongi took a seat in front of her.

“Almost. Not completely black out drunk like last night.”

With how nonchalant Y/n seemed, Yoongi blurted out the burning question, “Doesn’t the kiss mean anything to you?”

“I’d like to believe that a drunken kiss means nothing.” She shrugged. “We’re drunk, we can’t even recall it. A meaningful kiss is not a kiss you easily forget.”

“And if you’re drunk but still remember it?”

“Is it still meaningful if the person you kiss doesn't remember it?"

Just like how it always had been, Y/n’s words rang through his ears for days. When he was scrubbing the walls, mopping the floor, taking the trash out, and even on the weekends when he had deliveries.

Not only her words, but the taste of her dry lips and the way she leaned to him etched permanently in his mind. The way she poured him a drink, the way she lazily ate her breakfast. He memorized it all like a fanatic memorizing the Bible. Not leaving a single detail out.

It was just a matter of time until he decided to take action against it.

“I can’t do this. I need to come clean with her.”

The time happened to be a week after the kiss after Taehyung’s cafe closed for the day.

“What? Who? Why? What happened?”

“I think I’m starting to like her, hard. Y/n, I mean.”

Taehyung gave him a meaningful look.

“Don’t give me that look,” Yoongi groaned. “I know it’s wrong because we’re supposed to be enemies. But she’s so fascinating, you know.”

“Tell me about it.”

“She has this… different views of things.”

Taehyung nodded understandingly. “Of course. A quirky girl who can change you. Like an unoriginal love story.”

Yoongi thought, had Y/n been there with them, she would say something along the lines of, "That what makes those movies realistic, doesn't it? Real people don't fight zombies for love."

His mind had been poisoned with the thought of her.

“She’s not just quirky, okay,” he protested, though he didn’t know whether he was defending himself or Y/n. “She’s not quirky at all. In fact, she’s the typical college student.”

“The rich, spoiled one?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

“The rich and spoiled one.” Yoongi nodded while chuckling, remembering your fear of adulthood and your lavish apartment.

“I don’t know, dude. But whether you like her or not, or even love her, you still need to come clean.”

Yoongi quieted down at the thought of having to confess his lies to Y/n.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

What was he scared of? To be honest, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he was going to confess his feelings or anything. Just coming clean that he wasn’t a student, but a janitor. That he wasn’t a broke college student, just broke.

Maybe he feared the unknown. He was entering a whole new territory he had never been to.

He’d made up lies upon lies to the person he thought he would never kiss, would never be addicted to. Would never wonder how their day went or if they had breakfast.

He was stupid. Stupid for making up those lies, stupid of ever wondering about his red string, stupid for getting involved too deep with Y/n. His supposed-to-be enemy, a person he should’ve avoided. Stupid for catching feeling with her.

He wanted to kick himself, or Taehyung, or even Namjoon. Himself because he made up those lies. Taehyung because he supported him. Namjoon because he pushed him to come up with anything.

But he knew one thing for sure. If Y/n left him after his confession, he would never forgive himself.

He was going to keep his secret a little longer. If Y/n leaving him was inevitable, at least he had delayed it as long as possible.

Y/n’s life must only contain college and celebrations.

After the results came back—he was officially an intern—Y/n wanted to hold another celebration in his stead.

“We must celebrate every milestone in our lives,” she had said.

Going by her motto, he reluctantly agreed to have another celebration. This time in the form of a small party. So small, only three people were involved. Y/n, Taehyung, and himself.

“Taehyung is your barista friend, right?” Y/n asked enthusiastically when Yoongi told her about his plans. “I always wanted to work part time as a barista,” she sighed dreamily.

Y/n was in charge of the drinks—Yoongi told her not to bring alcoholic drinks. Taehyung was with the take out food. And Yoongi was going to host the party in his house.

He hoped his mom wouldn’t mind having his friends come over.

In fact, his mom was the complete opposite. She was too hyper in his opinion.

First of all, his mom literally bonked him in his head with a vegetable spoon. “Had you told me about it, I’d make some food.”

Second of all, she embarrassed him in front of Y/n. “Yoongi here never told me that he has a pretty friend like you.”

Third of all, she started playing matchmaker. “Are any of you dating Yoongi? No? I think he looks good with Y/n, don’t you think, Taehyung?”

Yoongi had had enough.

“Mom,” he groaned. “Please, stop.”

His mom giggled. “Alright, alright. I’m going back to my room. After you’re done, clean everything up, okay.”

“So, Tae,” Y/n immediately opened her mouth after Yoongi’s mom left, “Is your boss looking for a part-timer?”

“I don’t think so. She never mentions anything about that.”

Y/n nodded sadly. “If she ever looks for a part-timer, can you tell me? I’m interested.”

“Sure.”

Y/n eyes lit up. “Oh my God, really?” She laughed. “I owe you one.”

Taehyung waved his hand dismissively, “Nah, I don’t mind helping out a friend.”

“Are we friends?”

Taehyung shrugged. “A friend of my friend is my friend.”

Y/n clapped in excitement. “That’s what I think, too! I think we’re going to be great friends.”

While they were having a conversation, Yoongi only listened and imagined a life without Y/n. A life after he confessed. His parties would just be filled with silence. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if he would ever throw a party ever again.

But then another thought popped up. This one was more urgent like a ticking time bomb.

He had to leave his current job, and Y/n, to work at his new place.

No matter if he told her or not, she would eventually be out of his life.

The question had changed, then. It used to be when he was going to tell the truth. Now, it was whether he wanted to leave her on a good note or not.

“Hey.” Y/n touched his arm lightly to pull him from his thoughts. “Are you okay? Why are you so glum?”

Yoongi just shook his head, not trusting his own voice.

“Are you sure?” She frowned.

“Y/n, prepare the fruit punch! Let’s have a toast for Yoongi,” Taehyung said, catching both of their attention.

Soon after his friend said that, Y/n’s warm touch left his arm.

Though the party only ended when both of his guests went home, the fun part of the party left with Y/n. It was marked by her phone rings.

She quickly tossed her stuff into her bag and explained, “It’s my alarm. I have an assignment I forgot to do and a class early in the morning.”

“You’re going home now?” Taehyung’s glass of half-full fruit punch looked sad in his hand.

She sighed. “I’m sorry for ruining the party.” She looked at Yoongi. “Again.”

“It’s okay,” Yoongi replied. “How will you get home, though? It’s dark outside.”

“I’ll call a cab.” Y/n slung her bag over her shoulder. “Tell your mom I say thank you for having me.”

With one last glance at Yoongi, she left.

“What does she mean by ‘again’?” Taehyung dared to fill the silence.

Yoongi explained everything. About the burger after her interview, the ice cream, the beer and Y/n’s sob story, the interview and the drunken kiss, and this party. All the while Taehyung listened to every word he said.

“You can’t keep her in the dark. She’s too nice and sincere,” Taehyung finally said.

“I’ll leave her anyway. I can’t keep my job at the campus while being an intern.”

“And never tell her the truth? That’s cruel, dude.”

“It’s either that, or she hates me for the rest of her life.” With a choked voice, he added, “I don’t want her to hate me.”

“You can’t possibly think of that.” Taehyung shook his head. “You’re selfish if you do that.”

“Is it wrong to be happy?” Yoongi cried.

“Yes, if you’re sacrificing her trust. Your happiness is just a lie.”

“But you were the one encouraging me to talk to her back then!”

“Had I known you were going to fall with her, I would have told you to be honest.”

He shook his head, refusing to listen to his friend’s words. He had made up his mind and there was no need for Taehyung to make him doubt his choice.

“I’m going to enjoy my time with her as long as possible.”

Taehyung’s next word, however, echoed in his mind. “You’re going to regret this.”

You’re going to regret this. The words kept ringing in his ears, just like Y/n’s words. But unlike hers that was soothing, this was hot and painful. He deserved it, though. He needed a constant reminder that he was living his best life at the expense of Y/n, her trust, and Taehyung.

“So, there’s this opening party for a new club this weekend.” Y/n stirred her tea with her straw. “And I need a plus one. I’d ask my friend, but she has a seminar or something.”

As Taehyung’s words screamed in his mind, Yoongi asked, “You want me to come with you?”

“Well, if you’re okay with that. We won’t be there long, I promise. I just wanna say hi and stuff.”

You’re going to regret this.

“Sure. What should I wear?”

Y/n shrugged. “Anything comfy. It’s just like a normal frat party at someone’s house.”

Yoongi had never been to a frat party.

By the time they arrived, the party had already started. The music blared out loud, Yoongi was sure the neighbors were filing a complaint. Inside, people were dancing, singing, and playing drinking games.

Yoongi winced when a drunk person hit him accidentally.

This wasn’t a pleasant experience.

Y/n had been long gone from his side, being dragged away from him right when they passed the door. He remembered Y/n flashing him an apologetic smile and mouthed to him, “I’ll be back.”

She’d be back. All he needed to do was stay exactly where he was and don’t catch other people’s attention. He wouldn’t want an art student to recognize him.

“Hey, I think I know you,” the drunk person from earlier slurred.

Yoongi cursed under his breath. So much for trying to stay low profile.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi replied, trying to get away from him, but he instead grabbed his arm.

“Yes, I do. I’ve seen you somewhere.” He called his friends over. “Do you know this guy?”

Gulping, Yoongi saw some of them nodded while the others shook their heads.

“I’m sure I’ve seen him before.” The drunk guy frowned, trying to remember where he met Yoongi. “Did you watch our speech?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. There was no way this dude was a speaker there. He didn’t recall him at all.

“What’s going on here?” A booming voice came from behind him.

Yoongi turned around and sighed in relief when his eyes met with Y/n’s.

“Y/n! Have you ever met this guy?” The drunk guy pointed to him.

“Yes! He’s my friend. Get away from him.” Y/n yanked the guy’s hand off of Yoongi’s arm.

“Okay, geez.” The guy raised his hands in surrender and walked away.

Once the guy was out of ear sight, Y/n hissed, “What were you thinking? He’s a person you don’t wanna get involved with.”

“He approached me first,” Yoongi defended himself.

Y/n shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Just try not to get too close with him.” Y/n whispered in his ears, “He’s a fuckboy.”

Y/n took his hand and was about to pull him out of the party when suddenly another drunk guy stopped them.

Yoongi immediately recognized the boy to be Y/n’s ex, the one she was talking to back at the library.

“Y/n!” he called, pretending to be surprised, but Yoongi could see straight to him. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

Y/n snorted. “That’s supposed to be my line. Now, get out of my way.”

“No way. I haven’t seen you in weeks. I miss you.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “And I don’t. If you have some kind of self respect, please go away.”

“There’s no way you don’t miss me. Are you seeing someone else?” The boy nodded his head towards Yoongi. “Him?”

Y/n gave her ex a straight face for a few seconds. But then her face lightened up as she whispered to Yoongi, “Play along.”

“Yes!” she answered while linking her arm around Yoongi’s. “I’m with him.”

It was the ex’s turn to furrow his eyebrows.

He checked out Yoongi. From his face, down to his clothes and shoes. Scepticism was evident on his face.

“He doesn’t look very loaded,” the ex commented, much to Yoongi’s dismay.

Y/n shrugged. “At least he’s smarter than you.”

The ex’s attention was back on Y/n. Yoongi finally could draw a deep breath.

“He can’t possibly make you happy.”

“And your cheating ass can? Get out of my face.” Y/n pushed the ex away to the point he stumbled.

As Yoongi and Y/n walked past him, the ex yelled, “I’m marking your face, remember that.”

“Whatever. Just ignore him,” Y/n said.

“I’m assuming he’s your ex?” Yoongi asked though he already knew the answer. He could recognize the lanky boy anywhere.

“Yep. Thanks for the help, by the way.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did a lot by staying quiet.” Y/n chuckled softly as she shook her head. “He was looking for a fight, your silence confused him.”

“Why did you come to this party if it’s filled with problematic people?” he asked.

“I need to at least stop by. The club was my idea, after all.” Y/n shrugged. “Plus, not everyone there was problematic. Some are nice.”

Yoongi nodded. “I see.”

Y/n sighed. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

Resigning was another problem he had to deal with. First of all, he needed to make a letter of resignation which he didn't know how to make. Second of all, he had to print the letter though he didn’t have any printers. Third of all, he had to face his manager whom he only met once.

His manager stared deep into Yoongi’s eyes after reading his letter. “You have a new job?”

“Yes.”

“When will you start working there?” His boss tossed his letter to the trash can.

So much for trying to make a good letter.

“Two weeks from now.”

His boss pursed his lips for a moment before answering, “Okay, then. You may leave.”

“Thank you.”

Once he was outside his boss’ room, Yoongi exhaled in relief. His current job was coming to an end.

And so was his friendship with Y/n.

Three days before Yoongi left his current job, Y/n wanted to meet him in front of the campus after her class ended. He didn’t know why she wanted to meet him. After all, all she sent was a short text.

Meet me at 7 at the usual spot. Important!

He couldn’t help but to feel a sinking feeling at her last word. Did she find out about who he actually was? Or about the red string?

He was going to get his questions answered soon since he could already see the back of Y/n’s head.

But he didn’t even get the chance to greet her when Y/n turned around to face him and shoved her phone in front of Yoongi. A photo of him in a janitor uniform while holding a broom was displayed.

Yoongi stopped in his tracks and gasped. His eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Where did you get that?” Inside his deepest mind, he knew who’d taken the picture.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“I-”

“This is edited, right?” Her voice wavering, eyes brimming with tears. “You’re just a student just like me. Right?” She sounded desperate. Desperate to believe that Yoongi wasn’t lying to her.

All Yoongi could do was to look down and shake his head in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she sniffled. “I trusted you.”

“I wanted to tell you but I was looking for the right moment.”

“Bullshit! That’s all what they say. Have you ever thought of me as a friend?” She stared at Yoongi with so much venom in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/n wiped her tears aggressively. Her mascara started to run down her cheeks. She looked similar to the day at the library. The day Yoongi was making fun of her ex for being stupid. But this time, he was the stupid one.

“Stop saying sorry, dammit! What part of you are real? Are the company, the email, your internship all lies? Your ambitions, too?” At this point, her tears flowed freely down her face. “Answer my questions!” she yelled ferociously, not minding about passersby who stopped to watch them.

Yoongi really wanted to spill everything. From the library, the connected red string, then when it disappeared, the speech, and the friendship he’d gotten from it. But his mouth was sealed. Closed with the weight of the words.

With the lack of an answer, Y/n shove her phone back into her bag. She nodded and sniffled one last time.

“You’re just like my ex. A liar. A dirty, dirty liar.” She laughed sourly. “You know what’s funny?”

Yoongi shook his head.

“The fact that my ex was right all along. You can’t make me happy.” She visibly gulped, trying to hold back her tears. “Thanks for the friendship all this time. Goodbye.”

Just like that, she left his life without a trace.

Each word coming from her mouth attacked him like bullets. And it only hurt more every time he replayed it. He liked the pain, though. He deserved it after ruining his second friendship. He deserved it after hurting his friend.

The remaining days at his current job dragged on. He couldn’t focus at all. He kept forgetting his tasks, forgetting to turn off the ACs after the classes were over, getting scolded by his supervisor.

Not to mention that he found out Y/n had blocked him on every single of his social media, effectively cutting any means of communication.

“The manager told me you’re leaving. But I don’t want you to slack off,” his supervisor once said.

He wanted to scream at his supervisor, his manager, anyone that there was a giant tear in his heart. His heart was bleeding and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. The best he could do was show up to work. But just like at the night when Y/n confronted him, his mouth was shut tight.

That same day, Namjoon visited him after his shift ended. While there was a twinkle in the leader’s eyes, Yoongi’s eyes were filled with void.

“I’m done with my research,” Namjoon said.

Yoongi sighed. He just wanted Namjoon to say whatever he had to say and leave him alone. Better if Namjoon cursed him too before he left.

“You’re actually in a good place.”

Yoongi wanted to laugh at that. Oh, the irony.

“She’s no longer your enemy. But, you're in a grey area right now. Play your cards right, and you'll find your true love. Take a step wrong, and you'll make a new enemy.”

“Look.” It was the first time he opened his mouth in front of Namjoon. “I know you’re just trying to help. But it’s too late.” He bit his bottom lip. “I already made her an enemy.”

Instead of curses, Yoongi was getting a warm, knowing smile.

“It’s to be expected, actually. Your string was attached to her, after all. I never said it was easy to make her your true love. Only that it was a possibility.”

“Then, do I still have the chance to-” He didn’t need to finish his question for Namjoon to know what he wanted to say.

“Since you’re no longer attached to her, your enemy status is not permanent.” Namjoon laughed. “So, I’d say, go for it.”

Yoongi stared at the ground in disbelief. Warmth emerged from his heart, where emptiness was once, and spreaded throughout his body.

“But she hates me,” he whispered.

“I’m not a counselor. But you might have a chance, if deep down she feels the same.”

That was the problem. He didn’t know if she felt the same.

On his last day, Yoongi was packing his stuff up from his locker, shoving it mindlessly into his old duffle bag.

His supervisor was leaning against the locker beside him with an envelope in hand.

“You’re actually leaving, huh?”

“I don’t break promises.” Yoongi zipped up his bag and closed the locker.

His supervisor handed him the envelope. “Here’s your pay. Thanks for working with us.”

With a curt smile, Yoongi accepted the money. His job here was done.

He was about to leave the perimeter of the campus, promising himself not to look back for the last time, when he heard someone shout his name. Someone he had been dying to talk to. Someone he’d be willing to break his promises for.

He turned around and came face to face with the owner of the voice.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

Yoongi gestured to Y/n to talk first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain first. I was too caught up in my emotions.”

“No worries. It’s nothing compared to lying.”

“I've already come to terms with it. You were probably scared. It happens to the best of us.”

Yoongi nodded. “I was. This is better, actually. I don’t need to hide the truth anymore.”

“What were you scared of?”

He took a moment to respond. “I guess, being rejected.” It came out more like a question.

Y/n frowned. “Why would I reject you?”

“In my mind, you’re rich and amazing and perfect, basically everything a person wants to be. And because of that, I’m scared you’d think of me as being less than you.”

Y/n snorted. “I’m not perfect. My life is fucked up in its own way. I just never tell anyone about it.”

His mind reverted back to Y/n’s fight with her ex back at the library, and again at the party.

“I would never think of you less. Even if you lied to me.” Y/n flashed him a genuine smile, a sign that he had been forgiven. “Mistakes happen so we can learn from them. What’s important is that at least we acknowledge that and learn to be better.”

Yoongi nodded. He knew her words would ring in his ears for days as usual.

“May I know who took the photo?” he asked.

“My ex.”

His suspicion was confirmed. Somehow he felt even more at peace.

“He marks my face, no wonder.”

“I already told him not to mess with you again.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.” Y/n shook her head.

Y/n looked down at the duffle bag in his hand. “You’re leaving now?”

“Yeah. It’s time for me to move on with my life.” ‘And move on from you’, he added in his mind.

“Do you wanna grab ice cream for the last time? For old time’s sake?”

Y/n scooped her ice cream as she said, “Stupidly, I forgot to give you the chance to explain yourself. Again.”

Yoongi shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Y/n dropped her spoon. “It is for me. So for my sake, please explain.”

Just like that, Yoongi blurted everything out. Letting out everything that had been pulling him down. The fight at the library, the interview, and everything happened after that. Including the red string.

“Wait, red string?” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows.

“Right. You don’t believe the red string actually exists, do you? Well, I can see it.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as big as saucers. “Are you making up another lie?”

“Unfortunately, that’s the truth.”

Y/n leaned back in her chair as she snorted. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“Well, if you don’t believe me, you can ask Taehyung. You believe him, right?”

“Yeah, he’s still my friend.” She blinked her eyes repeatedly. “But what does that have anything to do with him?”

“He can see them, too. That’s how we know each other, actually.”

Y/n laughed in surprise. “I’m surrounded by crazy people.”

“We’re not crazy!” Yoongi searched for Taehyung’s contact in his phone. “Just talk to him first.”

After one ring, Taehyung picked up the call.

“Why are you calling me? I don’t want to talk to you until you’re telling her the truth.”

“I’m doing that right now, but I need your help.”

“For what?”

“Tell her about the red string, our red string, and the fact that we can see them because she doesn’t trust me.”

A shuffling sound could be heard in the background. “Okay. Give her the phone.”

During the entire phone call, Y/n was mostly nodding while saying, “Yes”, or, “Sure, or, “I understand.” Some questions were also thrown around like, “Mine was attached to Yoongi?”, and, “Mine disappeared?”

A few minutes later, the call ended and Yoongi’s phone was back in his hand.

“Wow,” that was all she said.

“So, do you believe me now?” Yoongi bit his bottom lip.

“Now I understand why you lied to me.” Y/n giggled. “Had you not lied to me, I wouldn’t come with you.”

“That was what went in my head at the time.”

“But what if I believed the red string? Or if I could see them?” Y/n teased before shoving her ice cream into her mouth.

Yoongi was stunned for a while. “I’d like to not think about that.”

Y/n laughed so loud it was etched into his head permanently.

The ice cream date could only go so long before they had to part ways and go home.

“So, this is goodbye?” he asked nervously, the duffle bag still clasped in his hands.

Y/n shook her head and smiled. “No. I believe this is a ‘see you later’.”

“See you later, then?”

“See you. When you’re famous, please have a collab with me so I can be famous, too.”

Yoongi let out a genuine laugh for the first time since the fight with Y/n.

Though parting and saying goodbye were never his forte, at least he could let out a laugh. He wouldn’t want his ‘see you later’ ruined with tears or sobs.

Not only Y/n’s laugh was stuck in his mind, the way Y/n’s hand flicked when she waved at him would also be another memory of her he treasured the most.

He swore to himself he still remembered the way to the administration office, but somehow all memories of the campus suddenly disappeared once he went past the gates.

As he was trying to recall where the administration office was, his thoughts were interrupted with a loud cheer coming from a group of girls in graduation gowns.

He frowned and stared at the group, showing his displeasure.

“Wait, Yoongi?” A girl ran away from the group and hugged him, making him stagger.

Yoongi was about to scold whoever just hugged him when his eyes landed on a familiar face. It was Y/n, his old crush.

“Y/n?” He stared at her attire. “You’re graduating?”

Y/n nodded while flashing her teeth at him. “Surprise!”

“You didn’t tell me you’re graduating.”

“Well, it’s been a year since we last met, right? It’s time for me to graduate. I’m sick of this place.” Y/n glared at him while pointing to the map he was holding. “And you didn’t tell me you’re a student here.”

“It’s only right to study here after working here.”

“Still! What about your work?”

“My boss wants me to pursue a higher education.”

“Oh, I see.” Y/n turned around to look at her friends before facing back to Yoongi. “I’m almost done with my stuff.” Her eyes glistened in mischief.

With a bored look, Yoongi asked, “What do you have in mind?”

He still remembered how outgoing Y/n was. It was something he liked about her.

“You finish whatever you need to do, then meet me at our usual spot, then we go for ice cream. What do you think?”

“Is it another celebration?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.”

Yoongi’s smile was enough as an answer.

[Masterlist]

[Taglist]

@lyoongx @jjddk @babeejeon @thehopelessromanticclub @okvmv

Join/leave my taglist here

[spooky-bunnys]

Since we hit 900 followers, I decided to write a special prompt for you guys! Hope you guys like it!

(Name) frowned as he quickened his jog to a run. He'd forgotten to get his dad to sign off for him. So he had to be quicker if he wanted to go with his club to their practice match. He adjusted his mating collar. Trying to be quiet since he knows, a certain someone was following him.

As he finally saw the Karasuno gym he sped up. Only to trip going into the door way. Which not only interupted the practice happening, but also drew all attention to him. Curse his clumsiness!

(Name) quickly picked himself off the gym floor. As he brushed off his manager track suit he looked around for his dad. Not noticing multiple Karasuno players making their way over. The first aproach looked to be the captain. An Alpha if they were going by scent.

"Um excuse me. Can I help you?" (Name) quickly bowed and tried to answer. Only to stutter and make almost no sense. "A-Ah! I-I'm looking f-for my D-DAD!" (Name) watched as the surrounding males jump as he spoke. He wanted to throw his head through a wall. Curse his shyness!

(Name) covered his face an groaned quietly. The others chuckled at the site. Loving how the shy Omega reacted. Many cooed at him. Enjoying his reactions and scent. Not noticing his uniform or how uncomfortable he was becoming.

~

Coach Ukai sighed as he finished his cigarette. He was so ready to go home. Enjoy the food cooked by his lovely son, and maybe cuddle said son while watching some sports. Lord knows the last time they were able to relax together. Both have been extremely busy recently.

He's been busy with the store and coaching. (Name)'s been busy with school, managing volleyball, and his two mates. Ukai rubbed his temples. Yeah mates. His son has two. Both were ace's and fiercely protective of him.

Well now that he thought about it. He didn't blame them for being as protective as they are. His son is the most clumsy and shy person he's ever known. Which was odd considering his family is everything but shy. Well they've also never had an Omega born into their family before (Name).

So this was new for everyone. If he also added the amount of fans/admires (Name) has. He shivered. His son has been through so much to get to where he is. He couldn't be more proud either. Although he wishes (Name) would've gone to Karasuno where he could keep an eye on him. Though considering (Name) goes to his Dame's old school. He wasn't too upset.

As he made his way back towards the gym, he picked up a very familiar scent. (Scent). (Name). Ukai practically ran towards the gym. The scene he arrived in was one that made his blood boil. He sprinted towards the crowd and started punching the tops of their heads. "Oi! How dare you corner my son!?"

The crowd of groaning student didn't answer him. He pushed them away and stood in front of the trembling Omega. "You guys ought to be ashamed of yourselves! Can't you tell he's uncomfortable!" (Name) shuffled behind his dad and gripped the back of his jacket. Hiding from the others and wanting the comfort of his father.

Ukai immediately turned and started lightly scenting his son. Hoping to calm him down. (Name) slowly calmed and burried his head in his dads chest. Not wanting to see the others. Ukai heavily glared at them over his shoulder. "Laps. NOW!" The player quickly started doing laps around the gym. Not wanting to anger their coach more.

(Name) lightly tugged on his dads coat. Finally getting his dads attention. "U-Um. You need to um, s-sign me off f-for tomorrow." Ukai sighed and ruffled (Name)'s hair. "You could've waited for tonight instead of rushing over here." (Name) opened his mouth to answer but was interupted when the gym doors swung open. Revealing a the person (Name) had been avoiding.

Oikawa Tooru. (Name)'s biggest admirer. (Name) gulp and glung to his dad. Trying to hide himself. But considering they're wearing almost matching track suits it was hard to miss him. Oikawa skipped over to the two with a bright smile. "(Name)-chan~ why'd you run off without me?" He fake pouted.

Ukai tensed when he felt how much his son was trembling. So this was the Alpha giving his son so much trouble. "O-Oikawa-senpai!" Oikawa frowned and leaned towards (Name), ignoring the glare sent to him by the elder Alpha. "Haa! How many times do I have to tell you to call me Tooru?"

(Name) flinched and tried hiding more into his dad. Oikawa scoffed and turned towards the older Alpha. "Hello sir! You must be (Name)-chan's dad!" The glare was ignored as he smiled brightly. "I'm very interested in your son. May I court him?" The aura surrounding the trio darkened.

Scaring (Name) who quickly pulled out his phone. Texting the first contact he could get to. After the message was sent, (Name)'s phone was snatched from him. Startling him greatly. Oikawa was once again frowning and bent to (Name)'s height. (Name) looked away. Avoiding the stare from his upperclassman. Hoping the male won't come closer. He was wrong.

Oikawa stepped forward, which made (Name) stumble and land on the floor. By now everyone was watching them. (Name) had started crying and trembling more. "O-Oikawa-senpai. Y-You know I-I'm MATED!" (Name) felt his soul leaving his body at the scoff he received.

He hoped one of his Alpha's will save him soon. If not who knows what will happen at this rate! Oikawa rolle his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. But why those two buff idiots, when you can have me~", sparkles surrounded Oikawa. (Name) whimpered as Oikawa squated in front of him. Ukai having enough stood in front of Oikawa.

He glared daggers at the brunette. "Oi", Ukai growled the word. "(Name) is mated to two of the strongest Alpha's. If you keep bothering him. Its not gonna be pretty. Because not only will you have to deal with all of Karasuno", Ukai spread his arms out. Oikawa looked around. Noticing the glares and growls being sent his way.

"But you'll deal with us too Shittykawa!" Entering the gym was none other then (Name)'s two mates. Iwaizumi Hajime and Ushijima Wakatoshi. (Name) tripped over himself multiple times getting up. Trying to get to his mates arms. Where he felt the safest. Once close enough (Name) was snatched by both Alpha's.

Oikawa slightly flinched at the looks sent his way by the two in the doorway. "We've told you time and time again. To leave our Omega alone. But you never fucking listen." Iwaizumi handed (Name) to Ushijima who held him close. As he made his way over, Ushijima turned (Name) away from the scene. Scenting the hysterical Omega.

Once Iwaizumi stopped he released his pheromones. Which brought Oikawa to his knees almost completely. "This is my last warning Tooru. Leave our Omega alone. Or I'll have to explain to your mother, sister, and nephew on why you won't be coming home ever again." Oikawa wanted to scoff but decided against it. Not wanting to make matters worse.

Ukai stepped forward and gripped Iwaizumi's shoulder. "Oi hedgehog. You're pheromones are everywhere. Reel them in will you. You're gonna send (Name) into a drop." Iwaizumi quickly turned to where his Omega and brother Alpha was. (Name) was slightly pale and clinging to Ushijima. Overwhelmed.

Iwaizumi sent one more glare to his ex-childhood friend, before making his way back over. Once he was close enough and lightly grabbed (Name). Scenting him carefully. Not wanting to send him into a drop. While the trio was scenting one another. Ukai started down at the panting Oikawa. Disgusted. "If you even get near my son again. So fucking help me."

Oikawa scoffed. "I'm the team captain of his volleyball team." Ukai growled before turning to the trio. "Oi! Lovers!" The Alpha's heads snapped over. Listening while (Name) was practically asleep. "Starting next week (Name) will be going to Karasuno. So you either switch schools, or be prepared to spend less time together."

Iwaizumi smirked. "I'll gladly follow (Name) to Karasuno. Although we had been discussing going to Shiratorizawa." Ukai quickly shook his head. "Hell no! I barely see him enough as it is." Ushijima frowned and looked away. "Maybe I can move closer to Karasuno instead of moving schools."

Ukai shook his head at the trio. Then smirked at the glowering Oikawa. "Now someone get this garbage out of my gym!" Kageyama and Tanaka made their way over. Wide smirks across their faces. "Our pleasure coach!"

[pinkdaiisies]

hi! Can you write something for angus Tully where she goes to the sister school of Barton and maybe they have a meet cute in town??? After winter break

Angus Tully X Reader

745 words | i feel like i could write a second part to this. lmk if you guys would read.

Winter break was officially over. The new semester had started, and after your first week back you wanted nothing more than to find a new book in town to make the beginning of the semester somewhat enjoyable.

So that's exactly what you did. Once classes were over that Friday evening, you put on your big coat and scarf and marched into town. Perhaps you would even grab a coffee for the walk back! The walk into town wasn't too long, but it sure felt longer now that a light snow started to fall upon you.

On your walk there, you noticed a lot of the Barton boys headed into town as well. The rowdiness of the teenage boys took your usual quiet and scenic walk into a cold and treacherous journey.

St. Francis was Barton's sister school, meaning you were in forced proximity with loud teenage boys anytime you wanted peace and quiet away from campus. You were even forced to go to formals and spring flings with school! You didn't understand the appeal for any of the Barton students, you thought they were all stuck up and superficial.

Eventually, you made it to the second hand book shop that you loved so dearly. When you opened the door the bell on top of the door rung, and you were met with the labyrinth of stacked books on the floor and bookshelves.

The smell of old books comforted you as you started your hunt for Franny and Zooey by J.D Salinger.

The somewhat alphabetized shelves helped, until you were looking between the S's and the T's with still no sign of the book. You started to run your finger along the books faster and reading the names quicker until you bumped into someone.

""Oh! I'm so sorry-" You started to apologize when you noticed the white book with the green spine in his hand. "That's Franny and Zooey." You said matter of factly. Your eyebrows pinched in annoyance.

"Yes, it is." The tall boy with curly hair said. "I've been wanting to read it for months." The boy flipped through the pages quickly with his thumb.

"I walked here in the snow for that book. Its the only copy they have on the shelf!" You argued, although, you knew deep down the mystery boy had beaten you fair and square to the book. You felt like making him feel a little sorry for you though.

"Well I'm sorry, but I was in here 15 minutes before you, so I don't know what you want me to say. I'm Angus by the way." He threw his name in there at the last second, and for a second, you took your attention off the book and onto the boy in front of you. He was tall... and not too hard to look at. You could tell he went to Barton though by the way he wasn't letting you have the book. Despite the fact that he was handsome, you were not walking out of the book store without that book.

You mumbled your name back in politeness. You needed that book, but had no other way to argue him out of it. You two fell into an awkward silence.

"I'll tell you what, I go to Barton. I'm guessing you go to St. Francis?" You nodded at his question. "Okay so, how about you let me read the book first, and in a week from now we can meet up and I'll lend it to you?" Angus negotiated with a flirtatious smirk.

You figured his idea was pretty reasonable. Either that or his smirk was working.

"Okay. Deal." You reached your hand out for a handshake. He copied you, but you pulled your hand away at the last second. "Only, if you buy me a coffee for my walk back. I'm not going back to school empty handed." You put your hand out again, only this time Angus hesitated. Was coffee to far? Did he not want to be seen out in public with some random girl?

"Deal." Angus smiled as he reached out for your hand. You sighed a breath of relief.

The handshake lasted longer than a handshake should ever be. Angus held incredibly good eye contact with you. Too good... You looked away with a faint blush on your cheeks.

The walk back to St. Francis was better than the walk into town. Coffee in hand and a new friend by your side.

[pawnshopbleus]

Miller's Girl - Part One

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

The record store in downtown Austin was filled to the brim with people excited to have their items signed by their favorite band. The crowd was a mix of teen girls with their dads and middle-aged men on their lonesome. The band in question was some underground band from the eighties that you had never heard of. 

Your co-worker, Emma, was in charge of keeping the crowd in check while you were manning the register. This wasn’t the first time you had done these signings. In the two years that you have worked here, hundreds of artists have come in and out of those doors. They attract their loyal fans to the store which can give it more publicity and customers. 

Your eyes scan the crowd. It was still pretty full, but the line had stopped trickling out of the doors and onto the sidewalk. You look over at Emma to see her standing with her weight on her left hip and her arms crossed. If you didn’t know her, you would have thought she looked like a bitch, but in all actuality, she is the nicest girl you know. 

The doors open and the bell above it rings. Your boss comes in and surveys the store. His bald head nods as he skims it. Nothing had been stolen and the customers looked happy. When his eyes land on you, your heart drops. You know that look. It was the same look he gave your other co-worker that look right before he fired him. You cross your fingers under the counter and plaster a fake smile on your face. 

Your entire world looks like it’s in slow motion. Your boss steps closer. Each step he takes makes your heart thump in your chest. The sound his thousand-dollar shoes make on the floor sounds like the bombs used on the battlefield. 

You don’t know if you either blacked out or passed out, but the next thing you knew, you were in the staff room gathering your things. This would be the last time you would ever step foot in this record store as an employee, but that should have been the least of your worries. You needed this job. Without it, you won’t be able to afford rent. Luckily, you were smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship for the university you attended, but there were still other expenses that needed to be paid. 

The hallway of your apartment building seemed colder than it usually is. The usual shushing of dogs who aren’t supposed to be in the apartment is replaced with static. The crickets weren’t even chirping. The sound of your breathing brought you out of your tiny rut. At least you were still alive.

The pink paper in front of your door made you stop in your tracks. You could read what it said from where you stood. ‘Rent will be increased to a thousand dollars a month’ was typed out in Times New Roman. Only pretentious bitches type in Times New Roman. 

You were sure that this was the work of the couple that bought the building six months ago. They promised the residents who lived there that the rent would stay the same, but the promise had just been broken. You were worried for yourself, sure, but you were also worried about the elderly people who couldn’t afford to go anywhere else. 

You wish nothing but the worst for the new landlords and make your way into your studio apartment. It’s a mess, just the way you left it this morning. Your cat, Bill, lays outstretched on your couch as if he were the one who just worked eight hours only to get fired at the end of it. 

You flop on your couch and sigh. For the first time in a while, you don’t know what to do. You just got fired and your rent got increased. If you can’t pay rent then you’ll become another homeless college student. Just another statistic to the state and a burden to the university. 

Your phone chimes and you almost cry with joy as you see your best friend’s caller ID flash across the screen. 

You pick up the phone and she begins talking immediately. She goes on and on about some boy she saw a the mall. He had icy blonde hair, but his roots were showing which meant that he wasn’t a natural blonde. This was a good distraction for about a few minutes until you realized that you wouldn’t be able to afford to go to the mall anymore. 

Your hot tears dribbled down your cheeks and fell onto your chest. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Cherry, I just got fired from my fucking job because my boss wants to buy more fucking shoes and my rent just got fucking increased because my landlords are fucking bastards!” You say through tears. “I think I just heard you say ‘fucking’ in that one sentence more times than I have heard you say it in your entire life,” Cherry laughs. 

“It’s not funny, Cherry. I'm going to be homeless!”

“Stop being dramatic. Sign up for flowers for one dot com. It’s a babysitting website where single parents find a babysitter for their children. My cousin did it for about a year and made more money than she does at her regular job.” 

For the first time in a very long time, Cherry gave you actual good advice. She gave you a solution to all of your problems. 

“Thanks, Cher, bye.” You hang up before Cherry has a chance to say goodbye. 

Your phone drops onto the couch and bounces off, falling on the floor. You suck in air through your teeth and grab your phone off the floor. You should be more gentle with it because you can’t afford to get a new one if it breaks. 

Flowers for one dot com was a simple website. It got straight to the point. No fancy explanation of ‘who are we’ or ‘why do we do this.’  You include the fact that you are certified by the Red Cross in CPR and that you are a senior at The University of Texas at Austin. You also add that you are majoring in architecture and the fact that you want to become an interior designer. 

Your profile is up and running in an hour. You look over it again and close your laptop. Your life is falling apart piece by piece, but maybe you should clean up a bit. 

The dirty clothes that were being neglected in the corner of your room are now in your hamper. You can see the hardwood floor that you’ll be paying a thousand dollars a month for. 

Your phone chimes once again, but this time it’s an email from the website. You almost drop your phone again as you read who it’s from. 

Joel Miller, Professor of Architectural Studies at The University of Texas at Austin.

I'm the pretentious bitch that writes in Times New Roman 🙋🏿‍♀️

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 44/?

Prev | Next

Two days after Tim left, Jason regretted giving him his phone number. Not because the kid was trying to convince him to return to Gotham but because he would text him at the most random times with the most innate things. Seriously, did he ever sleep? Why was he trying to find out who robbed a store and took only the left socks?

Okay, the last one was interesting, but why was he doing it at 2:42 a.m.? Go to sleep!

Jason rubbed his eyes and continued setting up the snacks for the first book club meeting. Ghost Writer was literally glowing at the prospect of the first meeting. Jason constantly reminded him to stop lighting up if he didn’t want to freak people out. After telling him the sixth time, Jason wondered if meeting in Ghost Writer’s bookstore was a bad idea.

He sighed, “Too late, now.”

Jason had used the bookstore’s website so people who signed up could also vote from six choices. It had been a close call, but most people chose Sense and Sensibility. Jason couldn’t overstate his happiness that the first book would be an Austen novel. Jason might not have read it in a while, but he had it almost memorized and found himself more engrossed than usual in the novel. They only had to read the first five chapters for the first meeting, but Jason couldn’t help but finish it in one sitting while Jazz had had the kids.

Jason looked up as the bell over the door rang. A middle-aged woman entered the bookstore. Jason recognized her from the school and greeted her warmly. Then, an older lady entered. She had curly, short silver hair and thick glasses that made her eyes look huge. Jason greeted her and pointed her toward the snack bar. Next was a couple who bickered with each other. It wasn’t loud, but it felt overwhelming in such an enclosed space. Jason hoped that they wouldn’t continue arguing with each other the whole time.

Next, a young woman who looked to be college-aged showed up. Her hair was in a bun, and she was dressed as if she were going to an interview. Jason looked down at his ratty T-shirt and holey jeans and suddenly felt ragged. A few minutes later, a guy with a bushy beard and covered in tattoos entered. He looked like a biker.

Jason couldn’t help but be excited as he talked to the people who had entered. Barring the couple, everyone seemed happy to be there. Jason heard the bell ring once more. His smile fell when he saw the person who had entered.

Avril fucking Dubois. Fuck.

Jason ignored Avril as much as he could. He refused to let her ruin this for him.

They went around and introduced each other. The couple, Henry and Vanessa, went first. Halfway through introducing themselves, they started bickering. Jason quickly went to the next person.

The older woman was Agnus.

“I’m so glad this book club started. I love literature, and most of the people I used to talk to are gone now. I hope being around you young people will give me new perspectives.”

“Welcome, Agnus,” Jason said. He had a feeling he would get along with her. Next was the college student.

“My name is Charlotte. I’m here to find like-minded people who enjoy reading as much as I do. I can bring new insights and hope to learn from other people’s points of view. I hope to be a good asset to this club.”

“Um,” Jason had no idea what to say in response to that introduction. “Well, welcome; just having you here is awesome.”

“Hello, Jay. I know you know me, but for everyone else, my name is Carrie. I love to read but have very little time to do so with my children. I decided I needed some ‘me’ time, so I joined. I can't wait to discuss literature with other like-minded people.”

“Name’s Jerry,” Biker dude said, “I’m here to broaden my horizons and to see more of the world through books. Happy to be here.”

Jason smiled warmly toward him. He loved that Jerry didn’t fit into the stereotypical bookworm category. It made Jason feel validated somehow. Of course, Avril had to ruin by sniffing at Jerry’s introduction and haughtily introducing herself.

“My name is Avril Dubois. I’m the president of the PTA at my children’s school.”

Why would anyone care about that?

“I studied literature and English in college, so I thought this club would be a good way to continue my love of literature and help spread what I know. It’s certainly nice to meet such a…interesting band of people.”

Jason gritted his teeth at Avril’s blatant insult and decided to introduce himself.

“Hello, my name’s Jay. I started this book club so I can talk and discuss with others the books I read. I am so glad to have so many people here who share my passion for the written word. I would also like to thank Mr. Edwards for letting us use his bookstore for this little club.”

Ghostwriter waved a hand and sat by Jason. Thankfully, he looked like a very pale man and wasn’t glowing.

“I put a little poll online, and Sense and Sensibility won. I’m excited to talk about this book. Austen is one of my favorite authors. So, did everyone read the first five chapters?”

The discussion started, and Jason had to admit (at least to himself and not Roy) that this was a good idea.

Jason couldn’t help but feel joy being in a group of people arguing whether or not it was Mrs. Dashwood’s fault that Elinor had to have sense and had become a parent due to Mrs. Dashwood’s habit of letting her emotions take over.

Even the couple stopped bickering with each other to gang up on Jerry and Agnus. At one point, Jason and Avril were on the same page. Well, weirder things, he guessed.

When the first meeting ended, Jason felt his core humming with happiness.

Jason personally saw everyone out—even Avril.

“Well, I was pleasantly surprised, Jay. Who knew you had some knowledge of Austen? Don’t be late to the PTA meeting tomorrow, if possible.”

Even Avril’s backhanded compliment didn’t bring Jason’s spirits (ha!) down. He couldn’t wait for the next meeting.

Quick disclaimer: I have never read Austen.

I tried to read it for this chapter, but it's not my cup of tea, so I did something I have never done before: I used cliff notes, lol. I kinda wish I could've gotten into it because I see so much of Jason in Marianne. For example, Jason uses his emotions to live his life, and it has caused him problems with his family

Likewise, I see bits of Jazz in Elinor. But since I can't really go into it I decided to put it here on the notes.

anyway, enjoy

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife @randomafterthought @chaos-and-wtv

[digitallovergirl]

　　HERE'S YOUR COFFEE.. AND MY NUMBER

☕ . . . Barista! Leo Valdez x Customer! Reader.

in which: Leo has a favorite customer, and it's most definitely you.

authors note: I don't have much to say for this one LOL. I'm writing this right after I post my poll to see what fic you guys would like from me so this is one of the options ! also I like to think that the store Leo works at is a mom and pop shop and the parents who run the place love Leo and gave him the job as soon as the place opened 🤭

warnings: literally none

Was it wrong for Leo to have a favorite?

He didn't think so. I mean, It's not like it was obvious. His job was to make caffeine drinks for teenagers, college students, and thirty year old women with two kids. Who would know (or care) that he liked one customer more than another. As long as the quality wasn't getting worse for one customer and way better for a second one.. Why do they care?

When Leo says they, he means his coworkers. He might have talked about one customer a little too much (and how pretty they were) and one day, the people who worked around him were like: "Wait.. do you have a crush on one of the customers?"

Which Leo responded with: "Uhm.. No?" (He's rubbing the back of his neck and blushing like crazy. He also sucks at lying)

So ever since that day, Leo's wonderful peers have been his wingmen and wingwoman. Every time they'd have a break, the people on the job would go into the back and talk about ways Leo could smoothly give you his number. At first, the meetings were really embarrassing. They'd often joke around about how Leo had a crush on somebody who he only saw for a good few minutes a day, but as it went on for longer, they would actually give some good advice.

So Leo, taking all the advice he'd learned from his fellow people's, decided to shoot his shot. And he didn't just pick a random day, no, he might have checked the weather for the week and picked the coldest day because, lets be honest, who doesn't want a hot drink on a cold day?

The day you came into the shop was definitely cold, but that didn't stop you from wearing something cute. As soon as one of Leo's coworkers saw you, she basically pushed Leo to the front desk without saying a word. "What in the world are you—" he stopped talking when he saw you walking up to the front desk. "Well, look who it is." He smirked.

"Hi, Leo." You smiled back, glancing at his name tag and back at him. Not that you had forgotten his name, but it was hard to remember stuff when you were around him. "Can I get a [insert usually order] please?" you asked.

"And will that be a to-go order?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I have a job interview in like.. " You turned your phone on to check the time. "thirty minutes? and I can't be low on energy. I'm trying to get the job, not lose it. "

Leo laughed. "I bet either way you'd get it." If his eyes could form hearts, it would. you were so, so pretty.

[ little time skip hehe ]

It didn't take that long for you drink to come to you (mostly because Leo was high on energy and was making it for you) But before he gave you the drink, he wrote a little something on the side of your cup.

"I'm going to be very honest, you're cute. I'm going to put my number below this just in case you think i'm cute too." He signed the letter with his name and a little red heart that he used a red sharpie to make.

"Here's your drink." Leo handed the coffee cup to you, purposely giving it to you in a way so that your hands could slightly touch. "Thank youu." You said, smiling. "See you next time I come in?" You asked.

"See you next time." He shoot you a pair of finger guns (which was extremely nerd & cute thing for him to do.) "Good luck on your job interview!" he said before you walked out the door. He wasn't happy that you had to leave, but at least you leaving meant his heart wouldn't beat so fast. The only this that he could hope was that you saw his note on the side of your coffee cup.

[inurnctdreams]

it’s the way you are - l.dh

masterlist

<prev next>

taglist: @ilovejungwonandhaechan @neozon3nha

viii. are you starting a freshman babysitting service? (wc 1.5k)

you bite your lip as you survey the downstairs floor of the NCT frat house. from your position on the fifth step of the staircase (you may have bypassed the crudely drawn ‘OUT OF BOUNDS - GO FUCK SOMEWHERE ELSE’ sign, but you figure you can get away with it as NCT’s favourite menace), you can see most of the lower floor. the kitchen is in the far right corner, double doors wide open to display the multitude of students hanging around the island covered in an assortment of beverages and stereotypical red solo cups. in the middle sits a huge plastic bowl full of doyoung’s infamous blackout punch. it’s an alarming orange colour and tastes dangerously like fruit juice instead of any of the numerous types of alcohol that are mixed in. jaemin drank so much one party last year he had to buy yeri coffee for two weeks to make up for the dress incident, which he still doesn’t even remember happening. he passed out in jeno’s lap five minutes later, hence the name. currently, you can see wooyoung and changbin yelling excitedly at san, before said soccer player downs an entire cup of the stuff and then goes back in for another.

your nose wrinkles, and you turn your gaze to the back doors to the left of the kitchen. a few people are sitting on the various pieces of garden furniture strewn out on the deck, but you can’t see much further and the only person you recognise out there is amy. unfortunately, she isn’t what you’re after right now. you bypass the small queue of girls waiting to get into the downstairs bathroom and look over the biggest space of the house, the living room. all of the non-seating furniture has been taken away and stored safely in the basement like usual, leaving the two huge sofas and whatever the guys could find for people to sit on. it’s mostly beanbags and a couple camping chairs, though you’re pretty sure that’s yuta’s desk chair he’s currently lounging in, chatting animatedly to sicheng and yangyang. a potential candidate. the rest of the floor space is taken up by people dancing along to the music booming throughout the house (currently wow by btob), and you see a lot of familiar faces strewn throughout the throng of students. sadly, none that jump out at you, other than maybe yeonjun, but he seems a little preoccupied with soobin, wooyoung’s unofficial fifth roommate.

and directly below you, pushed up against the staircase, is the entire reason you’re scanning the house so meticulously: the beer pong table. your master plan to get jaehyun inebriated enough to agree to playing shinee on night night wednesday all relies on your ability to secure a partner skilled enough to give the reigning NCT beer pong champion a half-decent challenge. at the moment, ryujin and yeji are wiping the floor with felix and hyunjin, who is dramatically fake crying while downing yet another cup. eyes flitting back to the corner of the room where yuta is still engaged in conversation, you’re about to descend the stairs and proposition him when something catches your attention.

perched on the arm of the sofa on the right side of the living room is a boy with chocolate brown hair looking around nervously and wringing his hands in his lap. normally, you wouldn’t think twice about a stranger presumably looking for a friend at a frat party, but something about this boy’s demeanour is screaming that he’s super uncomfortable and in need of help. you make your way down through the room, waving at yuta, sicheng and yangyang as you go, coming to a stop in front of the boy, who, upon closer inspection, is definitely younger yet almost certainly at least six inches taller than you.

“hi!” you greet him over the music, feeling the bass of b.a.p’s hurricane in your entire body. “are you okay? you look a little lost… or like you’ve lost someone.”

“hey, uh.” his voice is a lot deeper than you expected. “both, i guess?” he brings a hand up to rub at his neck nervously. “i came in with my friend, but he went to get drinks like twenty minutes ago. now i can’t see him anywhere, and there are so many people here, and i only know like maybe five of them?”

“well he can’t have gone too far, i can help you look if you want? i’m y/n.” you smile. “even if we can’t find your friend, maybe one of the other four will show up so you’re not on your own.”

“yes please.” the earnest look on his face is so endearing you have to stop yourself pinching his cheeks. “honestly, we were invited at the rush event last week, but i dunno if frat life is for me anymore.”

“it’s not all like this.” you laugh, weaving your way through the crowd. “yeah, parties are what people tend to think of when they think frats, but that’s only a small part of it and they’re not compulsory. there’s so many other fun and less choatic events that get put on, and they’re all really great guys here.”

you’ve managed to make your way to the back doors, and the tall freshman holds the door open for you as you step out into the cool night air. maybe johnny was right and your outfit was lacking a few layers for the frigid january weather, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of letting him know. it’s not as busy out here, and while there’s a buzz of conversation emitting from the backyard, it’s nowhere near as loud as inside.

“oh!” your new companion exclaims. “there’s mark.” you follow his line of sight to see said recruitment chair leaning up against the wall with a drink in his hand. he’s laughing along with something one of the people in the small group surrounding him has said, and you spot a few familiar faces among them.

“you know mark? oh, he must’ve been at the rush event.”

“yeah, it was him and the frat president who invited us, but i can’t remember his name.” the boy frowns, following as you lead the way over to them.

“taeyong.” you supply, watching as he nods in recognition. “i haven’t seen him around tonight actually, but like you said there are a lot of people here.”

“y/n!” jeno is the first to notice your presence. you easily accept the hug he offers and turn to greet the other boys.

“hey guys, so this is-“ you cut yourself off with a frown, realising you’d never actually asked the freshman what his name was. oops.

“jisung!”

“chenle!” jisung moves to stand next to who you presume is his missing friend with a huge grin.

“this is jisung.” you laugh. “i met him inside looking a little lost and offered to help him find his friend, but seems like you beat me to it.”

“hey, man!” mark grins at jisung. “we bumped into chenle in the kitchen and got to talking, sorry if we worried you.”

“hi.” a voice to your left diverts your attention from the conversation in front of you. you turn and come face to face with donghyuck and damn, the picture ten posted earlier in the evening really didn’t do him justice. up close, you can see every mole that dots his pretty face and you want to trace your fingertips between them to map them out like a constellation.

“hey.” you breathe, suddenly finding it more difficult to do so. being in this close proximity to him is not something you’ve experienced yet, and it’s seemingly bad for your health.

“are you starting a freshman babysitting service?” he teases, little smirk turning up the corner of his lips.

“yeah, of course.” you scoff, leaning back to give yourself some space to collect your thoughts. “he just looked really lost and i wanted to make sure he was okay. i was actually on my way to find a beer pong parter to hopefully dethrone jaehyun.”

“either you’re very confident in your own beer pong skills or you’re delusional.” donghyuck looks very unimpressed by your response. “he’s been undefeated for as long as we’ve been students here, probably longer.”

“since the end of year party the year before, actually.” you inform him, shrugging. “and maybe ‘dethrone’ is a little ambitious, i just need someone good enough to not get swept without making him down a few.”

“why?”

“well… i have a plan that may or may not involve getting him drunk enough to agree to something and then recording it as evidence so he can’t say no afterwards.” you watch as what can only be described as an evil, gleeful smile spreads across donghyuck’s face.

“i’m in.”

[hippopotamusdreamer]

Doctor, Doctor

genre. [AU] [M] [PS]

warnings. 18+ due to violent nature, Blood, Bleeding, Wound description, You stick your fingers in there???, stitching up a wound, Bullet

additional notes. Female! Reader | You/Your pronouns, Mafia!AU, Lee Know as Cat Man, Jisung as Buffoon, Changbin as Buff Man, Felix is there too!

pairing. Idk yet? Depends on if people want more

w.c. 2K

synopsis. You were just a simple med student, you didn't sign up for this part of the medical world just yet.

Kpop Masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

You think your neighbors were up to something.

Either that or they were fucking. A lot.

You moved into your place on the halfway decent side of town not even 2 weeks ago. While trying to get your undergrad in the medical profession, expenses were limited for obvious reasons. So when this studio apartment suddenly became available on the market, you jumped at the chance.

The location was slightly questionable but well enough for you that you could walk to and from campus without much of an issue.

The problem now was the constant noise that bumped against your bedroom wall in the middle of the night when you were trying to study. You tried wearing headphones to block it out but after a particularly harrowing moan 3 nights ago, you had yanked the already frayed device out of your ears so fast that they practically disintegrated in your hands.

Bye-bye headphones.

‘Maybe they’re masochists…,’ you thought with both intrigue and concern as you walked back to your apartment, groceries in hand. It was a nearing six o’clock when you had left the grocery store. Only a twenty minute walk back to your place and you’d rather not be caught out in the dark if you could help it.

You contemplated more about your neighbors on your walk home. Mysterious beings that they were. You still had yet to meet them, let alone figure out how many people actually stayed there. You suspected that they work at night though. Only because when you were not in your classes, you were at home studying and was usually quiet on their side. Around nine, nine thirty was when signs of life started to appear.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You were in the middle of highlighting the answer for the treatment efficacy results of complete blood counts for a final exam review when a pounding on your door broke you out of your concentration. The yellow of the highlighter now smudged and imperfect on your notes.

You frown as you glanced at the clock on your wall. 9:45 PM jumped out at you in bright LEDs.

Another succession of pounding on your door made you focus on the matter at hand.

Shoving your arms into a bathrobe you had, you reached your front door. Already a commotion could be heard on the other side. Muffled voices that only got clearer the closer you got.

“Damn it I.N open the damn door!”

‘I.N?’ You thought, confusedly.

The one thing you hated about these older apartments was that the doors, though really heavy, did not have a peep hole installed. So it was always a mystery whenever anyone stopped by. This always led you to be slightly weary whenever you weren’t expecting a package or anyone over.

Opening your door, you barely had enough time to step back in order to miss the fist that was connecting with the sturdy material. Big boba eyes stared at you in shock and confusion until he was pushed all the way through the frame. Caught off guard, you could only lean down to help him up.

“Outta the way Jisung,” another man huffed while stepping over him. He and a buff man were carrying a bloodied person between them. You were frozen on the spot as they came further and further within your apartment.

“Wait guys—,” The one in your arms said while trying to get their attention.

“Changbin, the couch.”

“Right.”

They completely ignored the two of you by the door.

“Guys, this isn’t—,” The man in your arms kept trying to butt in.

“I.N hurry, Lix’s lost a lot of blood already,” both men finally looked back towards the door. Confusion clouding their faces and yours zeroed in on the trail of blood that led to your couch.

Medical professional mode activated.

You immediately let go of the guy you had and made your way to the one in need of your help. With an oomph, he landed back on the ground once again.

At your couch, you pushed the two guys out of the way and examined the one not moving. Upon first glance, you could tell this one was messed up big time. Bleeding profusely from a wound on his thigh, face beaten to a pulp. From what you could see of his hands, both were battered and bruised which led you to believe that the rest of his arms didn’t fare any better. His face was littered in freckles and various cuts as well. A nasty busted lip and a swollen eye to add to the fray.

‘Just what the hell did this guy get into...’

You quickly moved into action. Removing your robe, you grabbed the scissors that were on the coffee table from earlier that day and started in on cutting open the unconscious one’s pants. Using the excess fabric as a way to staunch his wound to the best of your ability. His blood immediately staining your hands.

“Hey, wait—,” the cat like one tried to stop you. You had no time for his nonsense though as the time was ticking for your impromptu patient. A small part of you hoping the medical board wouldn’t find out about you practicing without a legal license.

Grabbing him by his shirt collar, you pulled him in practically nose to nose. The blood on your hands already smearing on his neck, “The longer you keep me from doing what I gotta do, the faster he bleeds. Do you want him to bleed out even more or not?”

The surprised look on his face as he shook his head was enough for you to let him go.  You grabbed the belt of the robe out of its loops and began to wrap it around the bleeding thigh, a few inches above the wound. Looking around, you grabbed your remote and placed it there too. A makeshift tourniquet.

Without turning away you addressed the other one that carried him in, “You, Buff Man…”

“Y-yes?” He stuttered out in shock at being caught off guard.

“I need you to tie this as tight as you can, got it? Put those muscles to use,” you commanded him to take the reins of the belt. He doesn’t say anything, just does as told. Taking your robe, you began to try to wipe away the remaining blood. You could already tell the tourniquet was working as the blood flow began to slow down.

“You, buffoon on the ground,” you yelled to the one still by the door. He jumps in response. “My bathroom, only other door in this place, there’s a brown glass bottle of iodine in the cabinet. Bring me that.”

He looked briefly at the cat like man before nodding his head quickly and scrambled away.

“Cat man,” you called out, continuing to clean the area.

He grunts in acknowledgment and the buff one gives a small snark in return as he finished his task.

“Top kitchen drawer, there’s a mini sewing kit and a bottled water from the fridge.”

The first one you sent off returned with an unsure look on his face. Handing you the bottle, you made sure it was the correct one. Unfortunately, you could feel the one below you starting to stir awake. The next few moments were about to get even uglier.

“Good job, now hold his shoulders.”

“What?”

Cat Man walked in then, both items you’ve asked for in hand. Without a word, you opened the water and cleaned the leg of the remaining blood. A slow trickle of the open hole was only left. What really worried you was the fact that whatever did this, there was no exit point. The wound itself was pretty neat, so that was good sign. No jagged edges and as far as you could tell there were no broken bones. It didn’t seem like his femoral artery was hit either. But there was only one way to know for sure.

Without a seconds delay, you opened the bottle of iodine and poured it on both the thigh wound and rubbed it on your hands. What a time to not have gloves in your apartment.

All three men stared at you in concern but you disregarded them. You had a self-appointed job to do.

Taking a grounding breath, you addressed Buff Man once again.

“Hold his legs…”

No warning, you stuck your fingers into his wound and everything popped off. The men started screaming and the one on your couch woke up. You couldn’t imagine the pain that he was feeling. There were a ton of nerve endings in the thigh and you were hitting a majority of them as you continued to dig deep. His bloodcurdling roar of pain was a sound that would haunt you as you lived your days.

“Hold him down!” You barked out as you used your fingers to feel for any obstructions in his wound.

The three men do as you ordered and hold the freckled man down. They struggled against his adrenaline fueled movements.

“Stop, it hurts!” he bawled.

“I know Lix, it’s almost over,” Cat Man tried to comfort. “ It is almost over isn’t it?” He tried to ask while addressing you.

However, you don’t respond as your nail caught onto something that shouldn’t be in there. This caused the guy to seize in even more pain as whatever it was bumped into his bone. His arms coming up to claw into the men at his head. Buff Man steady in struggling at his legs as they tried to kick him off.

“No please! Stop it!” His breathing became erratic and matched your own as your thumb and forefinger clamped onto the foreign object. Clenching your teeth, you hoped your fingers didn’t slip as you pulled it out.

Seconds felt like hours when you finally managed to free it. You don’t even have time to react to the bullet now in your hand so much as to just check to see if it was all intact. He passed out again through sheer pain and you tossed the bullet to the side. Now was not the time for questions.

Picking up your discarded and bloodied bathrobe you swiped the area clean to the best of your ability once again. Opening your sewing kit, you took more iodine and sanitized it before taking a piece of thread. With a hell of a lot of concentration you managed to insert it into the eye of the needle and made to begin stitching him up.

“I don’t have anything to numb with him but this has to be done…,” you whispered more to yourself than anyone else in the room.

Holding your breath, you don’t think about how you’re stitching up some random guy who has just bled all over your apartment. Whose friends busted into your private space without so much as a sorry. Who, thanks to this entire ordeal, could mean the loss of your—

Oh, you were done stitching.

Tying off the string, you finally looked at the others. They looked just as tired as you felt. It was quiet now that the guy on your couch was out again.

“He’ll need antibiotics and a hell of a lot of rest. He lost a fair bit of blood but he’s stable,” you relayed as you looked around your place. From the front entrance, the trail of blood that led to you and the puddle that was getting sucked into your upholstery.

“But he’ll be ok?” Cat Man asked.

“Yeah, he’ll be ok,” you said, nodding slowly

He mirrored your actions and only says, “Ok, we’ll be in touch.”

Huh?

“We’ll send someone to clean this up but for now we’ll keep him here,” he steamrolled.

“But what a minute—”

“If anything happens to him while we're gone, we aren’t the only ones who would come after you.”

‘Just what the hell did I get into...’

a/n. I might make this a series? I have to see how well people take it, so I left it open ended. I'll put it in One-Shots for now and if people want more I'll move it to Series.

Tag List (Open): @elizalabs3

This in no way reflects the actual persons involved/based in this fic, nor their actual character. This is purely fiction.

© hippopotamusdreamer, est 2024. all rights reserved.

[strangesthirdeye]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3: ᴅɪᴅ ʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɪɴsᴜʟᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʙʀᴀɪɴ?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Prologue > Chapter 1 > Chapter 2 > Chapter 4

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day, you both started your 'adventure' by riding the tube in London. Hagrid had to bend his body slightly just to get into the tube and he took two seats in front of the two of you just to fit his massive body which you found quite amusing because some people were surprised to see Hagrid.

Some distance themselves from Hagrid because.. Scared of him. Now you are both settled in the tube comfortably. Hands clutching the letters in your grasp. You who wear a dark brown jumper and checker oversize jacket along with baggy bronze pants which you have to use a belt just to keep it from being loose sits closely to Harry.

You were so excited today that you read the magical letters many times.

"First year students will require: three sets of work robes, one wand." Harry reads out loud enough for you and Hagrid to hear.

You looked at Hagrid interestingly. "Wands? As in sticks that have magic?"

Hagrid chuckled lightly. "Yes, Essential bit of equipment, Y/n, Harry"

You pursed your lips to hold back your excited squeal. This is like the book you used to steal and read in your old school library. And this, it's like come out of a book.

Harry then turned his gaze on his letters back. "One pair of dragon-hide gloves" Harry stopped and shifted his eyes to Hagrid. "Hagrid, do they mean for a real dragon?"

Hagrid looked at him oddly. "Well, they don't mean a penguin, do they?" Hagrid said.

"Dragons exist?" You are more excited.

"o' course they exist, big old rascals! Heh, crikey. I'd love a dragon" Hagrid beamed.

"You'd like a dragon?" Harry said.

You stared at him intently, very interested to hear Hagrid talk about something he liked

"Vastly misunderstood beasts, Harry." he said with his gruff voice. Hagrid then to the woman who seemed to be heard what Hagrid said. He nodded at her and the woman returned it before re-reading her paper.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"All students must be equipped with... One standard size pewter cauldron and may bring, if they desire, either an owl, a cat, or a toad. Could we find this in London, Hagrid? I mean, I can understand if we find a cauldron in London but an animal? Do we have to go into the forest to get it or what?" You looked up to Hagrid, dumbfounded.

Hagrid who was walking next to you turned his gaze on you and stared at your face amusingly before he laughed lightly. "aye, we don't need to hunt animals to get it, Y/n. We just need to go to the right place to find it" Hagrid replied.

Soon, they came across at the corner store, as they got closer, you noticed a sign magically appeared.

'THE LEAKY CAULDRON'

Hagrid opened the door of that mysterious store. You and Harry hesitated a bit to enter the place. Hagrid looked at you two, assuring that this place is not just any place before he motions you both to enter the place.

You both obliged and looked around the slightly dark place. There you two, there are several people in this place chatting and laughing with their friends at every table there. This place is a bit crowded judging by the place has a small space. Not only that, you also noticed some workers who used magic to clear the tables that had been used. They waved their hands and all the chairs were back in order. Without a wand.

"a pub? Hagrid is this really the place?" you shifted your eyes from a group of people dressed in long robes sitting in the corner of the room.

They seemed to be chatting and laughing while drinking what you assumed was alcohol. Did Hagrid really take you two to the pub for a drink or what? Harry looked around with uncertainty on his face. He too feels what you feel.

" it's not just a pub, Y/n." Hagrid noted before he walked forward.

Some of the people who knew Hagrid greeted him. You and Harry followed him from behind. Some people looked at you both suspiciously and some of them seemed to know you both especially you because of your unmatched eyes and this lead to whispers among them.

"Ahh, Hagrid. The usual i presume" said the bartender to hagrid as he wiped the glass in his hand with a cloth.

"No thanks, Tom" Hagrid waves his hand dismissively. "I'm on official Hogwarts business today. Just helpin' young Potter twins here buy their school supplies." Hagrid replied.

Suddenly the man named Tom widened his eyes upon hearing the name. He put his glass cup and cloth on the counter and put his hands on the counter and leaning his body forward to see you both over his counter clearly.

" bless my soul. It's Harry and Y/n Potter!" he exclaimed, flabbergasted.

The pub was immediately silent. They looked to where you two were standing. You looked around awkwardly, very overwhelmed by the attention you were given. So many people stared at you making your hands sweat.

Quickly, a man came to you two and he shook Harry's hands excitedly. An old woman came up to you and shook both of your hands.

"welcome back, Miss Potter! welcome back! Doris Crockford, Miss Potter. I can't believe i'm meeting you at last" she said before let go of your hands.

You awkwardly nodded your head. Not knowing what you did to get this kind of attention among magic people.

'right, this is quite overwhelming' you thought as you shifted closer to your brother's side.

Then came a man wearing a long robe and a large turban on his head. He looked nervous as he moved closer to you both to greet.

"Harry a-and Y/n Po- Potter. C-Can't tell you how p-pleased i am to meet you."greeted the man stammering. He fidgeting his hands as that is his habit.

"Hello Professor. I didn't see you there. Harry, Y/n, this is Professor Quirrell. He'll be yer Defense Against The dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts" Hagrid introduced.

"Oh nice to meet you" Harry offered his hand for a handshake but the Professor seems to distance himself from Harry as he hesitantly refuses for a handshake

You knitted your eyebrows at this. 'odd Professor' you thought as you observed the conversation on Harry's side.

"F-fearfully, f-fascinating subject. N-not that you need it, e-eh, Potters? Heheh.." Quirrell awkwardly said.

Hagrid decided it was time, he interjected. "yes, well, must' be goin now. Lots to buy. Hehehe."

Harry nodded his head at Hagrid. He takes your hand before he looks at his soon to be Professor.

"goodbye" he said.

You nodded your head in regards before following Harry and Hagrid to the back room of the winery in front of brick walls.

"See, Harry, Y/n! You're famous!" Hagrid beamed.

"But why are we famous, Hagrid? All those people back there, how is it they know us?" Harry frowned.

"What did we do to deserve such attention? I never felt this overwhelming before" you muttered, squeezed Harry's hand.

"I'm not sure I'm exactly the right person to tell you that, dear." Hagrid huffed a breath and patted your head lightly before he turned his gaze to the brick walls and tapped the brick walls with his umbrella in a clockwise direction.

The blocks then magically shifted and opened up to reveal a hidden busy street called:

"Welcome Harry, Y/n, To Diagon Alley" Hagrid said.

You both widened your eyes in amazement. The place is so full of magic and people who wear long robes and hats. Lots of kids with their parents buying and checking lists, sellers promoting their shop, witchs and wizards talking among them. Animals such as owls and bats perched on the bar seeming not to bother the many people there.

You grinned broadly as you all stepped into the busy street and walked down on it.

"this is amazing" you exclaimed as you let go of Harry's hand and looked around the place excitedly.

"i'm glad yer like it Y/n but best to stick together so yer don' get los' " Hagrid informed as he moved to the side to avoid bumping into people.

You nodded your head and held Harry's hand again who was still amazed by his surroundings.

" Here's where yeh'll get yer quills and yer ink, and over there all yer bits and bobs fer doin yer wizardry" Hagrid noted.

You are still grinning with amazement as you see various shops that are quite unique and magical. You noticed some children who are the same age as you pressed their face to the display of a broom? Now this is quite interesting.

" It's a world class racing broom!"

"Wow! Look at it! The new Nimbus 2000!"

"It's the fastest model yet.

'racing..broom' you frowned as you walk aimlessly with the help of Harry who seems to be pulling you to walk.

Suddenly you and Harry felt nervous. All this takes money. How do you all want to pay for your school supplies? Uncle Vernon himself said he will not pay for this school so how?

"Eh, Hagrid, how are we going to pay our school supplies, Uncle Vernon himself has said that he won't pay for this." you anxiously looked at Hagrid and so was Harry.

"We haven't money" Harry added.

"Well, there's your money." Hagrid pointed his index finger at the tall white marble building. " Gringotts, the Wizard Bank. T'aint no safer place, not one. 'cept perhaps Hogwarts." Hagrid explained as he led you both into the bank.

There you see some creatures that are human like dwarfs wearing neat suits but have long nails along with their crooked noise. Their faces looked very fierce. You and Harry nervously looked at Harry.

"uh, Hagrid, what exactly are these things?" Harry asked, his eyes still on the creatures who were busy working on their desks.

"They're goblins. Clever as they come goblins but not the most friendly of beasts. Bes' stay close, you two" Hagrid muttered as the three of you were finally at the front counter.

You both stick to Hagrid. As soon as you both arrived in front of the counter where the agoblin who was wearing spectacles and a waistcoat, in it was working, Hagrdi cleared his throat.

"Mr Harry and Miss Y/n Potter wish to make a withdrawal." Hagrid said, formally.

The Goblin looked up from his work and looked at Hagrid for a moment before he shifted his gaze to you and Harry.

You gulped your saliva. Your sarcastic and self-confidence disappeared upon seeing the fierce-faced goblin. The goblin then glanced at Hagrid again.

"And do Mr. Harry and Miss Y/n Potter have their keys?" the goblin said.

"Oh, wait a minute. Got it here somewhere." he put his hand in his pocket. " Ha! There's the little devil."Hagrid showed the goblin a key. He then leaned forward a bit."Oh, there's somethin' else as well.." Hagrid take out a letter wrapped in a string. "Professor Dumbledore gave me this.. It's about You-Know-Who in vault You-Know Which" Hagrid whispered as he gave the goblin the letter.

You looked at Hagrid sceptically. Even though Hagrid was whispering, you could still hear him and you were pretty sure Harry could too.

The goblin's face suddenly changed at the mention of it. He looked at Hagrid in disbelief. He then nodded. "very well"

'Right, this is a bit suspicious but well, everything in the bank is a bit suspicious' you walked after Hagrid, silently moved closer to Harry as you found him safe.

Later, you raced down the depth caverns in a cartlike structure. The cart is so fast it makes you a little dizzy and hold Harry or Hagrid's hand tightly as you sit between them. After the last turn, the cart stopped with a jerk. A sound of screeching could be heard under the cart due to metal moved against metal

The goblin named Griphook, clambered out of the cart followed by the three of you.

"vault 678." he announced before he turned back to Hagrid. "lamp, please"

Hagrid hands him the lamp. Griphook took it and walked to the vault. Griphook turned to Hagrid again.

"key, please" he said.

Hagrid hands him the key. Griphook took it and turned towards the vault again. He opened the keyhole and inserted the key before opening the vault. A loud sound could be heard as the door of the vault opened.

You and Harry widened your eyes in disbelief as you watched the room filled with so many coins that it almost reached the ceiling of the vault.

"Didn't think yer mum and dad will leave yer with nothing now, did yeh?" Hagrid said.

"that's..what" you stamped as you entered the vault, dragging Harry behind.

"They know we're going to Hogwarts"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

" vault 713" Griphook announced.

"What's in there, Hagrid?" Harry asked out of curiosity.

"Can't tell, Harry. It's Hogwarts business. Very secret." Hagrid said as he clambered out of the cart.

"Is it a dangerous thing?" you asked

"not only dangerous but quite powerful" Hagrid said simply.

"stand back" Griphook said firmly as he slid down his index finger at the door.

The vault opened with magic only to reveal a small white stone package. Hagrid entered the vault and scooped it up. The eerie light shining on the package disappeared. You and Harry looked at Hagrid curiously. Hagrid stared at you two for a moment.

"Bes' not to mention this to anyone, you two" Hagrid said before he slipped the lethal small package into his coat pocket.

You and Harry just nodded in agreement.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Right, I think we need to get yer school books firs't" Hagrid suggested.

"You're right. I think maybe I'll browse for a while to find a book to read at home.. I think I've read the Greek Mythology book 63 times. So, I deserve a new book" You uttered.

"and you already memorize everything and annoyingly preach about it like it's scripture" Harry rolled his eyes.

"isn't it melodious, brother dear?" You teased your brother as you poked his cheek making Harry move his head away from your fingers.

Hagrid laughed at your antics. "Well, here we are, Flourish and Blotts. The place where all the knowledge is. The books list is al'eady in the letters, just show it to the owner of this bookstore and she will get it for yer" Hagrid said as he opened the bookstore door.

The bookstore is very big from what you see from the outside. The place is full of books, obviously. People buying and browsing around the bookstore. You can see a folded origami in the shape of a bird, flying in the bookstore. You grinned before dragging Harry to the counter.

A young woman who was probably in her 20s looked at you with surprise.

"Oh, my! Your eyes are very unique there, little girl" the young woman complimented.

You nodded shyly "thanks, mostly people say I'm blind on one side but I can see everything normally"

"Well, I'm not most people, no" she grinned. "So, first year, you two? Let me see the lists, please" the young woman said.

Harry hands her the letters where the book list is written. The woman took it and read it for a moment before she nodded her head with confirmation then walked away to find a book for first year.

"That must take a while..Mind, if i browse around this bookstore, Harry?" You looked at him expectantly.

"Go on, I'll wait here." Harry nodded.

You grinned and walked to the bookshelf there. So many books you don't know due to your lack of magic, having grown up with the Dursleys who despise magic. So all the book titles here are unfamiliar to you, making you more interesting. As you come across the sixth year section, you stopped upon noticing a sixth year potion book.

Advanced Potion-Making

"oh," you raised your eyebrows with interest as you reached the book from where it was. You open the book and flip through the pages one by one. Sometimes you stop to read the info in the book.

Apparently, because you can only eat a small amount of food due to your need to catch up on time, you are left with a hungry stomach so, armed with mint candy as a simple meal, you pop it into your mouth.

"interesting choice of book" said the voice behind you. You can feel their breath on the back of your neck making you shiver.

You shut the book you were reading and turned your body to see who interrupted your reading. There stood a tall and rather thin boy with curly hair who wore a black windbreaker over a white collar shirt with dark pants and strangely a blue scarf around his neck. He has pale skin, eyes that look like gray and green when exposed to the right light and slightly sharp cheekbones over his rather baby face.

'he's probably the same age as me' you thought.

"that book is for sixth year. And you first year shouldn't read that kind of complicated book for the sake of your poor brain to understand all the information in that advance potion book" The boy said, eyes focusing on you.

'did he just insulted my brain' now this triggered something in you with what he said. Anger? Fed up? All of the above.

"Don't worry, my poor brain can digest all these kinds of information well. Although I'm a first year, that doesn't mean I can't touch a books that are years above me" you you said, giving him a malicious smile. An evil smile that betrays all innocence.

Although that boy didn't seem to care about your change of emotion.

The boy narrowed his curious eyes at you. "Well then. Good luck with understanding such complicated information. No need to risk your brain with too much information." And he went to another bookshelf.

You narrowed your eyes at him. You suddenly felt challenged by what he said. How dare he insulted your intelligence freely without care and just walked away as if he didn't insult your intelligence a few seconds ago. Who does he think he is? You chased after him with heart burn with fire. He put gasoline on the raging fire, now the raging fire is ready to burn him.

"Are you always like that?" you asked him as soon as you stopped behind him who was browsing a book on the bookshelf.

"Like what?" the boy looked at you in confusion.

"insult people's intelligence like you have better intelligence than other people" you crossed your arms over your chest.

"I only said the truth" he shrugged.

"Well, let me get this straight, not everyone has high intelligence like you, some of them need time to understand the things they learn and some of them are gifted to understand certain things quickly. I'm not high or low intelligence but I can understand things quickly and well depends on the information I read. I'm not gifted to be as high intelligence as you but I never insult someone intelligence like I'm better than them except it is my cousin which he is gifted to be an idiot. But insulting someone's intelligence does not make you above them. It makes you worse.” you snapped.

The boy is silent. He probably lost his words as he just kept staring at you. You waited for his remark but it didn't come. As if he just.. shut down like a computer. His eyes unblinking and keep staring at you. That makes you anxious under his stare. His gray eyes staring into yours as if he's trying to consume all the thoughts from you. Not only he just stared at you but he froze there. He didn't move every single limbs at all. It's like he's being stunned. You gulped nervously.

"Oi.. " you snapped your fingers in front of him but he didn't show any reaction. Now it's getting creepier.

'what if I slap his cheek?' you thought

Before you do what you think, a voice of someone calling can be heard behind you.

"Sherlock?"

You turned your body to see who was behind you. There stood a slightly tall boy who was wearing a cream colored jumper and dark pants. His eyes are blue, his hair is short sandy blonde, his skins is pale but not as pale as the boy who is still frozen behind you. He looks friendly.

"Sherlock?" the blonde boy called again as soon as he found his friend.

You looked at him in confusion. "Ergh.. hi?"

The boy looked at you in confusion but then he smiled. His cheeks slightly red "hi.. I'm uh.. John Watson"

"Y/n Potter.. " you replied.

"Potter? Like the Potter Twins? The twins whom defeated the Dark Lord?" John looked at you with awe.

"uh.. you can say that" you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck.

"I can see that you are not lying based on your unmatched eyes." John looked down, shyly.

"oh, well uh.. yeah.. people always say that my eyes are not real" you said.

"really, what did they say?" John now in front of you.

"They either say that i'm blind on one side or I wear contact lense to look cool... Uh contact lense are-"

"I know what contact lense are.. I'm a muggleborn.." John said, smiling. "My mother is a nurse while my father is a surgeon.. Surprisingly they got magical child like me..I know you because i read the book Sherlock give me about modern Wizards and Witches for my birthday" he added.

"oh, well.. I guess I need to explain what contact lenses are to witches and wizards who don't know what contact lenses are" you grinned.

John chuckled in amusement. "good one" he said.

"uh," you glanced at the boy named Sherlock who was still frozen. "you know him?" you nodded towards Sherlock.

John glanced behind you before he sighed heavily. "That's Sherlock Holmes.. My best friend.. well he's fine.. He just.. well, he always likes this when he's trying to think or when someone just knocked some sense into him. If you're not offended, what did you done to make him like this?"

You looked up at Sherlock's face which still had no reaction. "uh.. I think I've knocked some sense into his brain about not all people being gifted with high intelligence after he insulted my brain trying to digest such advanced information. He finds me reading a potion book from sixth year earlier"

"i see... Well he's always like that. I know him since we were 8 years old due to us being a neighbor he's always thought that everyone has a boring mind. Me included. I don't know what his older brother gave him impression about other people but he's trying not to be as rude as possible to other people. He's trying to understand people in.. certain ways. He may seem cold, eccentric, serious or rude but I know deep down he is a great person I have ever known. Although he never shows his emotions or feelings, he will show it in his own way. Just give him a few minutes, he'll snap out of it soon" John waving his hand.

"did he always just go to other people, insults people's intelligence?" You asked John.

"well, he's.. uh.. how do i say this.. He sometimes will choose someone he doesn't think he can read or deduce like he said. He's probably find you intriguing and trying to have a conversation with you but he just came out with the wrong impression." John reasoned.

A sound of small gasped can be heard from behind you. You both turned your gaze to Sherlock who had just come out of his frozen state. He looked at you with determination.

"you're right.. I shouldn't have insulted someone's intelligence" Sherlock said, firmly.

You raised your eyebrows while John mouth agaped at what Sherlock said. He never heard that Sherlock proved that someone was right, let alone said it with confidence.

You crossed your arms. "so, you want to apologize to me?"

Sherlock stared at you for a moment. "I apologize" he said, informally.

John was even more astonished. Sherlock apologized. Oh, what a day.

You nodded. "accepted " you paused. "Y/n Potter, though you heard that I gave my name to your friend... I don't know if you heard it or not in your frozen state"

"Sherlock Holmes" Sherlock introduced himself. "I know who you are already judging by the eye you have. It's really are... Unique"

"John said that you can read people or deduce like you said" you looked at him, interestingly.

"indeed. I can deduce people by looking at them. I can find information about them, their secret, their affair and anything." Sherlock said, determined.

"I see.. Well then if you know who I am why don't you deduce me?" you said, cocking your head slightly to the side.

"if you're not offended" Sherlock said.

"I'm not.. I'm basically offering you to deduce me because I want to hear what you know about me just by looking at me" you looked up to this tall curly boy.

"are you sure? Sometimes most people will be offended by what Sherlock said after he deduced them" John interrupted, looking at you worriedly.

"Well, I'm not most people, right?" you said, grinning. "now why don't you start?" you glanced at Sherlock.

"That jacket is not yours judging by the size of it it belongs to a boy. Your stupid cousin, perhaps. You and your twin brother are looked after by your aunt and uncle who are muggles based on your lack of magic knowledge because I noticed you seem to be puzzled by the title of the books here." Sherlock sniffed the air. "Mint candy, you just ate mint candy because I can smell the mint when you talk. And-" Sherlock takes your right hand. "bruise on the wrist. I can see a peek of it when you snap your fingers on my face. I believe your uncle is the cause of it judging by how blue the bruise is."

You are lost for words at that. He's incredible. The way he talked fast and clear made you speechless. He knows just by looking at you. And the way he takes your hand.. Damn that boy really is something. He's smart.

"actually, the bruise is not caused by my uncle.. It's my fault actually. I'm trying to hide behind the walls but my hand seemed to have a mind of its own and bumped into the walls hard." You smiled. "but overall, baggy outfit, stupid cousin and lack of magic are correct. Congrats"

Sherlock huffed disappointed before he let go of your wrist. He took a step back. "That's just what I see, but there's something I can't seem to read"

"Well, I believe I hide my information quite well.. Brilliant indeed" you smirked. "So you guys first year too?"

"indeed"

"yes"

"Well, I believe we will meet at Hogwarts again. I should leave before Hagrid and Harry find me" you said, backing away from them.

"yeah.. See you at Hogwarts" John said, smiling gently.

Sherlock nodded in regard. He squinted his eyes at you. Observing you as you leave them. Well, that's quite something. Did you just make new friends? Maybe. John seems friendly and trustworthy while Sherlock is just Sherlock. He seemed quite determined to know about you which you found him quite eccentric, like John said.

It might be too early to call them friends. You only know their names.. And the bit about John being Muggleborn? Is that what he called? You have a lot of things you need to know about the Wizardry world.

For now, let's just complete your school supplies as soon as possible. You walked back to the counter, there Harry and the young woman from before were with lots of books on the counter. Those must belong to you and Harry, seeing that Harry is like checking the list for god knows how many times. Just to make sure.

But then again, speaking about books, you forgot to grab your free time book like you said. And there goes your quick adventure. You go to the session where a storybook is. And one actually caught your attention.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

It's a simple light blue book that has a hard cover and is quite light to carry. It is medium sized. you eyed the book for a moment before grabbing it and reading the information on the back of the book.

As soon as you finished reading it, you raised your eyebrows.

"I guess this is it" you muttered to yourself before walking back to the counter with the book you chose in hand.

"Right, I think it's done." the woman said lightly as she put the books inside a medium-sized bag?

Does it fit to put 16 books of first year in it? You put the book you chose on the counter but your eyes are still focusing on the bag in the woman's hand.

"how did those books fit in that medium-sized bag? I mean these books are all big and heavy, how did it fit?" you asked

Harry nodded his head in agreement. He to find it quite odd and amazed by magic as he and you have just been introduced to magic not a few hours ago.

"oh, this? it's Extension Charm, dears. A very useful Charm. You will learn it at Hogwarts soon" the young woman smiled as he handed the bag to Harry.

"So it's bigger on the inside?" you muttered.

"yes, it is bigger on the inside, dear" the woman said. "now, you want to buy this book?" the woman nodded her head towards the book you chose.

You snapped your head towards the book on the counter. "Oh, yes.. Err how much is it?"

The woman only chuckled lightly as she shook her head. "nahh, it's on the house, just for you, my dear"

"what.. No, I can't accept it for free, I have to pay for it" you insisted as you took out some coins from your pocket.

Harry pursed his lips as he watched you insist on paying for the book. He knows your heart will feel guilty if you don't pay it. He understands that feeling. Feeling guilty.

"no, I insist. It's on the house, take it as a peace gift" the woman said. "Your brother can choose what book he wants. It's on the house too." the woman said lightly.

"oh, I- I'm not the type of person who likes to read books a lot. So, it's okay" Harry politely refused.

the woman nodded her head. "understandable.. Now, my dear. Just take it, the owner will surely do the same if she knows it's you"

You hesitantly took the book and put it in the medium size bag in Harry's hand.

"Thank you, Miss..."

" Phale, Eleanor Phale, just call me Elly" The woman whose name is Elly smiled genuinely at you both.

"Thank you, Elly. I really appreciate it" you nodded your head gratefully.

"your welcome, my dear. Now off you go, surely you have another school supplies to buy. I hope we meet again" Elly said.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"we still need... A wand" Harry looked up at Hagrid.

"A wand? Well, yeh'll want Ollivanders" he said, pointing his finger to the store in front of them. "There ain't no place better. Why don't you run along there and wait? I just got one more thing i got to do. Won't be long"

Hagrid walked ahead, leaving you two in front of Ollivanders shop.

"and he left." you muttered.

"Luckily he left us in front of this shop" Harry said as he pushed open the shop door.

The bell jingle as you both enter the shop. The place is slightly cluttered and there's no people inside. Empty. The owner too.

"Don't tell me we're coming at lunch time" you muttered.

"really" Harry looked at you, done with you.

You shrugged. "Did you see the owner here? No? That's what I thought"

Harry shook his head as he grinned at your antics. "Well, just let the owner know that we are here" Harry walked to the counter. "hello? hello?" Harry called softly.

You frowned at that. "Do you think he heard you call him that? Seriously?" you chuckled lightly.

Harry rolled his eyes. The suddenly, a noise came from the back, a man appeared on a ladder greeted the sight of you both making you speechless. The man is wearing a brown coat with a white collar shirt underneath along with a tie that is a little messy around his neck. His air is full with white colored hair that is messy showing how old he is.

The man, Ollivanders smiled upon seeing you both as if he recognized you both.

" I wondered when i'd be seeing you two, Mr and Miss Potter. It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wand. Now, shall we start with the older one? What do you say, Mr Potter? Shall we?" Ollivanders looked at Harry.

Harry nodded his head in agreement while you huffed a breath. Older siblings come first. But then again, being the youngest twin has its advantages.

Ollivanders picked a wand from the box before handing it to Harry. "Ah, here we are"

Harry takes the wand then holds it without doing anything. You frowned.

"Nothing?" you looked at Ollivanders, confused.

"Well, give it a wave" Ollivanders said.

Harry hesitated a bit before he obliged and gave it a wave. This causes most of the boxes to come flying out and crashing down. Harry and you jumped. Harry hurriedly put the wand back on the counter.

Ollivanders shook his head in disapproval. "apparently not" he muttered. He then gets another wand from a box and inspects it for a moment before giving it to Harry "perhaps this"

Harry took the wand before he waved at a vase where the vase shattered making you and Harry startled.

"I can see it's not for you, Harry" you muttered to him.

Harry gave you side eyes. Ollivanders shook his head a few times and took the wand from Harry's hand and put it back in the box.

"No, no, definitely not! No matter" Ollivanders mumbled to himself as he walked back to retrieve another box. He then suddenly stops and becomes thoughtful "I wonder..."

Ollivanders walked bad to the counter and opened the box before giving it to Harry who took it and suddenly out of nowhere you could feel a strong wind.

Harry stared at his wand with wide eyes after a gushed of wind stopped.

Ollivanders looked at Harry with surprise. "Curious, very curious" Ollivanders exclaimed, deep in thought.

You glanced at Harry with your unmatched eyes.

Harry gulped. "Sorry, but what's curious?"

Ollivander examining Harry's wand. "I remember every wand i've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the phoenix, whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feathers, just two others. Meaning,.." Ollivanders walked to the back and carry out another box. He stopped at the counter and examined the box before carefully taking out another wand.

[ Picture ]

"13½" long, crafted from Yashino Cherry, and affixed with a phoenix feather core.. A stubborn wand. Give it a try, Miss Potter" Ollivanders gave the wand to you.

You take the wand and suddenly you can feel a very strong aura and a strong wind just like before, making paperwork in the shop flying and blowing your hair up. Once it stopped, you examined your wand curiously. It is quite smooth in your hand.

"As i expect, you and your brother have the same core. It is curious that you both should be destined for this wands when its brother gave you that scar and eye." Ollivander narrowed his eyes at you and Harry. No doubt he meant Harry's lightning bolt scar and your white eye. Ollivanders then examining your wand.

You and Harry exchanged looks. Harry looked at Ollivanders nervously.

"And who owned that wand?" Harry questioned.

" We do no speak his name. The wand chooses the wizard and witch, Mr Potter. It's not always clear why . But i think it is clear that we can expect great things from you two. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great." Ollivanders said, thoughtfully before he hands your wand back.

You took your wand again and examined it curiously. Harry too did the same thing. Same phoenix core like the one who gave you this eye. And people seemed afraid to utter his name. Like whoever uttered his name will be cursed. He's a dark wizard, no wonder what he did to people really did a number on them. But then again, this dark wizard must be the one who killed your parents.

A knock at the window interrupted your thoughts making you and Harry turned to the window. There stood Hagrid who was holding two cages and in them were owls. One is a Snowy Owl and the other is a Barn Owl.

"Harry! Y/N! Happy Birthday!" Hagrid beamed as he showed you two the owls. A Snowy one hoot while the other spread its wings.

"Wow" Harry uttered, looking at the owls with amazement.

"I chose that badass looking Barn owl" you exclaimed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later back in the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid, you and Harry, are at a long table, eating soup. You both stared forward thinking about the conversation between you and Ollivander. Everything is too quiet, Hagrid soon notices this.

"You all right, Harry, Y/n? You two seem very quiet. " Hagrid said lowly.

"He killed our parents, didn't he? The one who gave us this." He gestured to his lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

You looked at Hagrid with your unmatched eyes solemnly. "You know, Hagrid. We're all know you do."

Hagrid sighed before he put down his bowl of soup. "First, and understand this, Harry, Y/n, 'cause it's very important. Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. A few years ago, there was onewizard who went as bad as you can go. And his name was V-...his name was V-." He hesitated to said the name.

"Maybe if you wrote it down?" You muttered.

Hagrid shook his head. "No, I can't spell it. All right." Hagrid sighed heavily before he leaned forward. "Voldemort" he said quietly.

"Voldemort?" Harry said a little louder.

"shhh! " Hagrid shushed.

Harry looked around the place, worried if people heard what he said.

"What kind of name is Voldemort? Is he trying to be dramatic or what?" you said lowly.

"It was dark times, yer two, dark times." Hagrid said. "Voldemort started to gather somefollowers, brought 'em over to the dark side. Anyone who stood up to him ended up dead. Yer parents fought against him, but nobody lived once he decided to kill 'em. Nobody. Not one. 'cept you two" Hagrid pointed out.

"That's why we were left with our aunt and uncle.. But why Voldemort tried to kill us. What can two babies who don't know the world do to him?" you thought out loud.

"I'm not the right person to say why he tried to kill you two. But that eye and scar is not an ordinary eye and scar, you two. A mark like that only comes from being touched by a curse, and an evil curse at that." Hagrid explained.

"What happened to V- Sorry.. To You-Know-Who?" Harry asked.

"Well, some say he died. But one thing's absolutely certain. Something about you

stumped him that night. That's why yer famous. That's why everybody knows yer name. You two are the twins who lived" Hagrid explained.

THE TWINS WHO LIVED.

Ironic isn't it? The title that you both don't know but many people already know for the things you both can't explain. Enough to get that title. What you know is that the dark wizard is the cause of the death of both your parents and he also tried to kill you and Harry. Why? You don't know. As Hagrid himself stated that he was not the right person to tell about that. He seemed hesitant.

But you get this nagging feeling that you will know the cause of it soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[jeridandridge]

Cosmic Love

The soulmate AU where something significant your soulmate says appears on your skin. Only Melissa doesn’t have anything on hers. I had to use the wordTesoro because it just sounds so pretty.

Ever since you could remember you loved the idea of a soulmate. Someone that the stars created just for you. You loved hearing the stories of how people met their soulmates, comparing the words that appeared on one’s skin in a gorgeous shade of gold. When you were a child, your parents assured you that your soulmate would love you no matter what and that they would be able to communicate with you easily.

Since you lost your hearing in an accident as a toddler, you opted not to speak. When you reached your teen years you would lay in bed at night tracing the single word that glistened on your upper arm.

Tesoro

The single word plagues you even in your early thirties. You date casually and have a few ex partners even though you knew none of them were your soulmate, now as an adult you realize not everyone meets their other half and you don’t know if you even have one since you cant speak. Little did you know you’d meet your soulmate in the most perfect way.

“Y/n. Thank you for coming.” Jacob says as he signs slowly.

Walking up to the door where all the kids are entering the school you keep your hands moving.

“Thanks for inviting me. Zack said you could use some help.” You smile.

“Hey, kid who’s this?” Melissa comes up to Jacob after shuffling her kids inside.

“Melissa! This is y/n.” He explains and signs. “She’s a friend of zacks, she’s helping me with a deaf student.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the red head giving her a wave and mouthing hello. She certainly was pretty. You pay attention to the two, your eyes going to glossed lips as the woman speaks.

“I’m Melissa, nice to meet you,” she offers a friendly nod.

Jacobs almost relieved that his co worker wasn’t giving you the cold shoulder.

Later on in the day you sit at a table in the break room talking with Janine through the notes app on her phone and reading lips. She’d been very bubbly and kind but every so often your eyes drifted over to the red head across the room for a split second.

Somehow, you Janine, and Jacob end up on the subject of soulmates.

“You don’t think you’ll meet yours?” The teacher asks you. You can only scrunch your nose and shake your head in response.

Melissa groans turning to face your table and Jacob watches with curiosity from the counter. “Can you guys talk about literally any other topic?”

“Come on, Melissa. Don’t tell me you don’t believe in soulmates.” Janine tells her. Barbara sitting quiet as ever shoots her a warning look as if to say stop.

You look at the older woman with a curious expression, strangely intrigued by her.

After a few weeks and a couple visits to the school, you’re out and about one day when you run into Melissa at the grocery store. You greet her with a smile and name sign, even though you’ve never told her what sign you gave her. she quirks a brow seeing the items in your cart.

She smiles and reaches for her phone quickly typing out a message.

“If you’re making pasta get rid of the canned crap.” You look up at her with a light chuckle and a shrug gesturing for her phone. When she hands it over you type quickly with a stupid smile.

“Not all of us are wizards in the kitchen, Schemmenti.”

For whatever reason the red head playfully rolls her eyes and types something else.

“Come to my place sometime this week, I’ll show you how to cook a real meal.”

You have to school your normally expressive features when you read the message, though you think she can see the flush that you can feel spreading across your cheeks.

“Is this a trap?” You look at her quizzically with a smirk.

Thankfully Melissa catches the joke and visibly laughs. God it’s a pretty sight.

Later that week, you show up at Melissa’s house at 6 o’clock on the dot knocking on the door.

When the red head answers you can’t help but beam and move your hand for her name sign and a hello.

She has her hair up in a ponytail and a Jean over shirt on. It was different from her leather pants and long sleeved shirts you usually admired her in.

“Come on in, hon.” She gestures with a smile.

You step in and hand her a bottle of wine you brought as you hold your phone screen up so she could read it.

“Don’t worry, the guy at the store paired it with what we’re making not me.”

Melissa laughs walking beside you instead of in front of you so you could still read her lips.

“You can let me grill you about Jacob while I cook.”

You nod and let out a chuckle, this time missing the look in Melissa’s eyes when she hears your laugh.

While Melissa cooks, you watch and read her lips when she explains whatever she’s doing. You’re in awe as she moves around the kitchen in her element.

When dinner is ready, you both sit at the table and she watches you take a bite of the pasta. When the ingredients explode on your taste buds you let your shoulders slump as you nod giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up and the sign for amazing.

As the evening goes on, you’re surprised at how kind and open Melissa is with you. From what Jacob had told you, she wasn’t like this with everyone.

As you two sit and chat, Melissa opts for a notebook and pen while you read her lips. The conversation turns to soulmates at one point, you shrug and try not to seem to interested since the red head clearly doesn’t like the topic.

“Why don’t you believe in them?” You write out, genuinely curious.

The older woman looks at you with a shrug. “I don’t have any words on my body.” She explains.

That’s when the realization hits you. It couldn’t possibly be.

Melissa being Melissa and not wanting any pity, she changes the subject before you can reply.

“Can you tell me what the sign is for me?” She asks curiously. You can’t help but duck your head a bit before a shy smile spreads across your lips. You make the motion for ‘Beautiful’ before writing the word on the paper.

Melissa’s lips part slightly like she’s going to say something, but she keeps her eyes on the paper. Thinking you messed up you start to write at the speed of lightning on the note pad.

She reaches over resting her hand over yours to get your attention.

“It’s okay.” She smiles. “You know I have a nickname for you too.”

You give her a quizzical look.

Melissa bites her lip and plays with your fingers. “Tesoro.”

Not sure if you’re seeing things, your eyes go wide and you pull your hand back to tap the notepad with the pen handing it to her.

Melissa smiles fondly and in elegant cursive writes the word out. Your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

You take a staggered breath and hold up a finger before you pull your shirt sleeve all the way up exposing the gold letters on your upper arm.

Melissa’s eyes fixate on the word before a shaky hand reaches out, her gold rings almost matching the color on your skin. Now you understood why she hated the topic of soulmates so much.

She didn’t think she had one.

You can’t talk, but you’ve never needed words to get your point across.

You see tears well in gorgeous green eyes, a single tear sliding down her cheek and you can’t stop yourself. Leaning over you wrap your arms around her frame, your hand on her back in a gentle squeeze. You feel the woman take a shaky breath as she hides her face in the crook of your neck, her arms around your shoulders.

You rest your head against Melissa’s, hoping the warmth of the hug says everything.

I’m sorry it took me so long. I care about you and I’m not going anywhere.

[solitaszn]

curtains ch. ii | ted lasso ✧˚ · .

Pairing: Ted Lasso x Fem!Reader Summary: You just invited Ted back to your flat and things start getting interesting after a drink... Warnings: SMUT, 18+ under the cut (minors dni), porn without plot?, oral (f receiving), protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Ted aims to please Word count: 1.6k

chapter 1

"Do you want to come in?" "We can have that drink if you want," he said, already making you forget how tired you were.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, we can."

"Great, come on." You grabbed his hand and opened the door. A flush of light pink sprawled across his cheeks.

Once inside, he could tell he had stepped into what he could only call the inside of your brain. Framed movie posters lined the entrance, along with a random open neon sign. It was a very random flat that he thought no one else could live in but you. None of the overhead lighting was on, only ambient lamps and signs were turned on to create a warm mixture of colors. He sat on your couch, bouncing on it.

"I’m just going to change real quick, and I’ll be right back."

"Take your time!" Ted looked around and picked up a small wooden bird, playing with it, his hands making it smaller than it seemed.

You walked back out with a pair of gray gym shorts, a huge graphic tee, and your fuzzy socks. “What are you doing?” you did in a deep loud voice. He jumped and dropped the miniature bird with a soft thud. “Jeez!” he choked out. You laughed as you walked over to your liquor counter, poured some whiskey, and cracked open a can of soda. "You want some in yours, Ted?"

"Oh no, thanks; I’ll just have it straight."

"Suit yourself," you said, handing the drink to the mustached man.

"Thank you, well, this flat is certainly you, I didn’t know you were such a fan of movies."

"Well, you never asked Ted," you said, taking a sip of your whiskey and coke.

An hour or so had passed, and you and Ted passed those hours laughing till your sides hurt and telling stories.

"So then there I was in the middle of the student store trying to buy a hoodie, and my phone started playing Anaconda at full blast," you say, laughing.

Ted chuckles and smiles at you, his eyes lingering on your lips a little longer than they should’ve.

"Oh god,” you check your phone, “It's so late, Ted, and I’m so sorry for keeping you here for this long," you apologize. This time your eyes linger over Ted’s lips, then his eyes that are almost glossy from the strong drink.

"No, it’s alright... I was actually going to…” He turns to you, you catch his head with both hands and pull him into a kiss. You don’t want him to leave; he’s surprised at first but then cradles your head. You pull away, your eyes wide from embarrassment. 

"Oh my god, Ted, I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking."

He pulls you into another kiss with a finger on your chin, deepening it. You moaned into him, tasting the whiskey he had just finished, which left a bittersweet taste as it mixed with your soda from earlier.

"I knew you were staring at me in the office," You said, pulling away and touching your forehead on his. His hands around your waist, guiding you to his lap.

"I know I’m sorry sweetheart, you’re just so beautiful."

His hands started traveling up your shirt while you kissed his neck.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you in your office, ever since we met," he said, his voice trembling under your touch. He lifted you up from the couch and you began to unzip his puffer jacket. Soon enough there were clothes trailing from your couch to your room, your lips still attached to his and the two of you in your underwear.

“Please Ted…” you sighed as his lips traveled down your neck. You laid yourself on the edge of the bed as he explored every inch of your body, taking it in as delayed gratification. And god did you deserve it too. His hands stayed attached to your hip bones and traced the light green lace of your panties, taking every gentlemanly action of his to not hook his fingers through them and throw them off of you. 

“Baby I really wanna mmh” he said as he made his way down your side. You sat up unclipping your bra followed by your underwear, you kissed him and laid back down. “Can I?” he said looking down. You never had a man go down on you before, but the whiskey gave you that boost of confidence.

“Yes- yeah- please.” you eagerly said. Ted got down and kneeled in front of the bed. Opening your legs by your knees and removing your hands. He started kissing from one knee until he got down to your soft inner thigh, his side of his face rough from not shaving in a few days followed by a tickle from his mustache. “Don’t hide from me baby, your body is perfect,” his voice got huskier than his normal peppy accent with the almost cartoony drawl that you adored.

You barely heard what he said as he followed it with licking up your folds, his nose burrowing itself into you, the newfound pleasure making you arch and your breath hitch. Ted held your legs down by putting them over his shoulders and wrapping his arms around your thighs. His hums filled the room followed by your soft pants that started growing louder. 

“You can be louder than that honey, my neighbors are gone.” he said, you looked down taking a first glimpse of Ted’s once honey brown eyes now hungry dark brown and his lips and chin wet from you. You whimpered at the sight of him, you couldn’t tell if you got lightheaded from the alcohol or the way he groaned into you when you weaved your fingers into his hair tugging his brown locks. You pulled once more when you came close.

“Teddy I’m so close…so fuck-,” you said. He could feel you getting wetter, when he detached himself from you, moaning at the loss of contact.

He got up from his knees and you saw the tent forming in his gray boxer briefs, he was a lot bigger than you expected. “Do you um? Have anything- I mean..a condom?” he said. You opened a box that included a few foil packages and your tiny bullet vibrator. You grabbed the gold foil and passed one to him followed by a kiss. 

“Don’t you worry darlin’, I’m gonna make you feel good.” he pulled down his underwear and rolled the condom down his cock. Watching him made you wriggle on the bed, deep down Ted loved the way he had you right now. He wanted to take a photo of you and save it for days he couldn’t be near you.

He knelt on the bed this time, pulling you toward him and lining himself into you. It took a second for you to get used to his size, Ted was stuck in a daze with how wet and warm you were around him. He hadn’t even bottomed out in you when you moaned his name, he swore he could’ve came from how pornographic you sounded to him. It was only when he was fully in you when you started to grind on him, begging him for more.

“Please T-Ted, oh god baby please fuck me,” you said as he began to rock his hips in and out. “Sweetheart, you’re so tight, f-fuck.” A string of profanities fell from his lips as fast as his hips snapped in and out of you. You ran your nails down his back making his grip that much tighter. “Just like that, ah- fuck Ted right there!” He watched you with your eyebrows knit together, eyes shut and mouth open with bliss, he brought his hand in between the two of you and circled your clit. A moan getting caught in your throat. 

“Ted, I’m so- I’m so, so close!” you cried. “Fuck darlin’, I’m gonna-” he choked. A wave of pleasure went through you as his thrusts got deeper and you felt yourself dripping down your legs and holding Ted’s shoulders to keep yourself from going limp. His orgasm followed as he stilled in you and buried his head into your shoulder groaning, “Fuck fuck fuck, you’re so good, so good for me sweetheart.”

He rolled over next to you as you both caught your breath, the sight of his messy hair sticking to his forehead and his face having that pink tinge you saw earlier. Soon he got up to get a towel, cleaned you up and pulled your sheets over your body, kissing you and thanking you. “That was amazing, you’re really somethin’ else honey.” He said picking up his boxers from the ground and pulling them back up. You got sad for a second watching him pick up his clothes.

“Are you leaving?” you asked. “Oh, I mean I’m sure you don’t want me here-” “No” you cut him off. “Please? Stay?” you said. “You don’t mind?” he questioned. “Of course not Ted, come back to bed.” His gaze softened at you and walked back to the side of the bed, picking up your clothes along with his and placing them on a chair. He picked out his white undershirt and pulled it over his head and then handed you your shirt and underwear, like the gentleman he is. Pulling back the sheets, he settled into bed with you. Gazing at you with hearts in his eyes while you put your clothes back on too. “You’re so beautiful, gosh,” he said. Your face reddened as he pulled you in for a kiss to cap off the night. After that you started to drift off to sleep and could hear the quiet snores coming from the mustached man, after a while his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you in, his head resting on your chest. You kissed his head and whispered, “Goodnight Teddy.”

Taglist: @snixx2088 @tegan8314 @hart-kinsella @hislittlegirlll @elkitot @crosbyssids @rxllingstones

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 9: "don't listen to me, listen to them"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

Hyde paced W.B.'s office at Grooves's headquarters. Angie was present, as was Jackie. She'd taken time off from her busy-as-hell schedule for this meeting.

"It's a dumb idea," he said. "I shouldn't have even brought it up."

"It's not dumb, and I'm happy that you told us about it." W.B. grasped Hyde's arm, stopping him near W.B.'s desk. "You're turning twenty-nine in less than two months. You're engaged. You should want more."

Angie's facial expression showed that she'd been waiting for this day. "I dreamt of running a record store since I was a kid. Then of running all of Grooves someday, and now I'm the company's senior VP of operations. You're allowed to pursue your dreams, too."

"I've already got more than I ever freakin' dreamed." Hyde glanced back at Jackie, who'd remained silent so far. "It ain't fair to to risk it all."

"You don't think creating Grooves was a risk?" W.B. said. I was married to Angie's mother, who was pregnant with Angie. We needed the security of a regular paycheck, but her mom wanted me to be happy. And my risk eventually paid off more than anybody could've imagined."

Hyde gestured in defeat. "I can't imagine this workin'."

Jackie stepped toward him and touched his hand. "Neither can I."

"Exactly."

"But don't listen to me. Listen to them."

Hyde stared at her. "Who the hell are you, and what've you done with my chick."

"Steven." She jostled his hand. "I'm redesigning my whole spring collection. I can't imagine that working either, but I'm doing it anyway. This time next year on October ninth, 1990, you'll have put out your first record on your own label."

"A sub label of Grooves Records, of course," Angie said with a smirk.

Hyde bowed his head and hunched his shoulders. "That's nepotism."

"That's expanding the family business." W.B. patted Hyde's back. "I'm not taking an opportunity away from anyone else. You've earned this. The demos you've played me, you have the ear, son."

Hyde sat in the closest chair. His legs were shaking from what was being said, being offered.

"You've been apprenticing under Frankie Branch to learn audio engineering, music production, for how long?" W.B. continued. "Picked up the guitar expertly in three years of lessons and learned as much by listening to songs. Taught yourself bass guitar. Became Cam's favorite drum student, and that's saying a lot."

Angie gazed at the high ceiling and shook her head. "Edna and Bud gave you no chance to realize you have perfect pitch. You didn't understand what you were capable of. You've had to play catch-up in your mid-twenties."

Jackie stood in front of Hyde and rubbed his arms over his long sleeves. "Your childhood was stolen from you. You once told me all the doors were locked for you but one. Your family, your true family, has unlocked so many. You've walked through a lot. Don't shut this door and walk away."

Hyde covered his face in his hands. His emotions were getting to him, breaking through his defenses. As a kid, Formans' folks signed Forman up for jazz guitar lessons, which he abandoned. Only the acoustic guitar remained, and Hyde played that thing every second he could at the Formans' house.

He used Forman's beginners' workbook to learn tabs that were printed alongside sheet music. Hyde couldn't read music for shit, but tabs he got. Songs on the radio, on records, stuck in his skull like recordings. He figured out how to play the guitar parts himself and, back then, had no clue why could do that.

He understood now.

"Son, are you all right?" W.B. said.

Hyde raised his head and wiped his eyes. "Yeah. Just ... when ya don't believe something's possible for you for so damn long -- and then it happens? Kind of a mind fuck."

"So you'll start your label?" Jackie smiled at him with such hope, such support, he would've fallen in love with her if he hadn't already fallen twelve years ago.

"Yup."

Jackie cheered, and W.B. congratulated him in a proud, fatherly way Hyde was still growing used to.

"What are you going to call it?" Angie said.

Hyde grinned. "Burn-Out Records."

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Ghoulette Appreciation Week 8

Week 8: Coffee Shop AU & Sickfic

I've been excited for this one! Back to the Midwest Emo Ghouls AU, because they just won't stay outta my head for long!

When Mist doesn't show up to Aurora's coffee shop, she gets worried. Or, Mist and Aurora are hopelessly crushing on each other, but neither seems to realize their feeling are mutual.

Rating: G Content: Fluff, secret crushes, Rory taking care of Mist when she has a cold. Words: 2651

It would be remiss of me to write a Midwest Emo Ghouls Coffee shop AU and not mention @midnight-moth's ficlet (which I think technically they said is only adjacent to this AU? but I wrote this before double checking, oopsie!) with coffee-shop!Aurora and record-store!Mist, the og fic that had me sold on Mistrora! (go read it!)

As with anything I've written for this AU, all credit goes to @herbal-quintessence and friends for its creation, I've picked and chosen my favorite hcs for the ghouls when there are multiple, and for any other inconsistencies with the original creators's hcs and timeline let's just say I'm operating on a different branch at an indeterminant point in time, haha..!

Read below, or on AO3!

The screech of the coffee machine snapped Aurora out of her daydream. She shook her head slightly to dislodge her leftover thoughts, still drifting around about her favourite customer. Aurora kept expecting Mist to walk in the door any second, and she didn’t dare try to meet her eyes while simultaneously imagining herself staring into them under greatly different circumstances.

The door to the shop remained closed however; no tinkling of the bell to herald Mist’s arrival to the coffee shop, and the subsequent arrival of a swarm of butterflies into Aurora’s stomach. For the umpteenth time that day, Aurora squinted out the window to the record store opposite. The lights were still off, the sign still reading closed. Where was she?

Aurora had worked in the coffee shop for several years now. She had applied when she first moved to town as a broke student struggling to pay rent, and had loved every second of it. The coffee shop, it turned out, was the beating heart of this rural town: a social hub for almost all the denizens both ghoul and human. She had taken great delight in getting to know her new community and neighbours, and beginning to recognize people outside of the coffee-scented air of the café.

From her connections at the shop, Aurora had learned about the existence of the dark church, and in particular its close community of ghouls. She had found many of her new friends here, and even her new home. Aurora had got talking with two lunchtime regulars she recognized from the church: one the owner of the hardware store down the street, the other his husband joining him in town for lunch. She had quickly learned that they farmed the fields east of town, and when Aurora had mentioned in passing that she was looking for a place to stay over the summer semester break to keep working, they had offered their spare room. They were looking for a lodger, anyway.

Another regular was Zephyr: church organist, GP surgery receptionist, and one of the first people Aurora connected with in town. They always came in during the afternoon slump, and happily tried the newest and strangest flavours of tea the shop had ordered. Aurora would scribble notes on their thorough yet honest reviews, before they left with an extra-large, extra-strong black coffee for Omega, the surgery’s GP.

It was through Zephyr that Aurora had learned of their lodger Mist, who had recently opened a record store directly opposite the coffee shop. Mist was cool. Seriously, effortlessly, cool. Throughout the weeks that she had started coming to the coffee shop at Zephyr’s suggestion, her visits had become longer more regular. At one point, after Aurora brought over her third drink of the morning, her curiosity had got the better of her, and she had asked Mist if she actually sold any records, seeing as she spent more time in the café than her own shop.

It turned out that Mist had not only been an art student at Aurora’s college several years previously, but had also taken several courses in online business and marketing. She made most of her sales from her website, explaining how her shop kept running with seemingly few customers. Aurora thought she was amazing: smart, arty, stylish, cool... She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush on the homecoming queen. Mountain and Swiss thought this was adorable and frequently teased her about it, reminiscing on their own tentative courtship many years previously.

Mist had started bringing her laptop to the café, sitting by the window to keep half an eye on her own shopfront for customers while being plied with coffees and “free” cakes. She had quickly realized that no café had that good of a loyalty scheme, and that Aurora was instead buying them with her tip money. Secretly, she had started keeping track of what Aurora was spending on her, the notes tucked into the tip jar at the end of each day always covering the pastries, and then some.

As the frequency of Mist’s visits increased, Aurora had become deeply attuned to her presence. Mist was a welcome sight in her window armchair, a source of charming smiles and words which made her heart flutter. And so, on this day in the middle of a cold February week, Aurora had felt Mist’s absence before she consciously noticed it. All day, she had been distracted; one eye on the door or the conspicuously dark record store opposite.

She was so distracted, in fact, that Zephyr had cottoned onto it immediately when they entered for their afternoon break. They caught her eyes flickering to the empty shopfront opposite three separate times while ordering.

“Missing Mist today?” Zephyr asked kindly. Aurora blushed deeply; was it that obvious? “She’s at home sick today, she’s feeling pretty under the weather.”

Aurora’s concern must have shown on her face, and she started pressing herbal teas and cake upon Zephyr to bring to her.

“You could bring them yourself, if you want?” Zephyr smiled warmly: young love was such a precious thing. “She’s not contagious, Omega took a look at her this morning. She just needs some rest and TLC.”

Aurora nodded earnestly, not trying to hide how keen she was.

“You could meet us at the surgery after you close here? I can give you a lift once the Omega sees his last patient.”

“Thank you Zeph, that would be lovey. I’ll meet you there–”

Aurora’s eyes instinctively flickered to the door again as the bell chimed the arrival of a customer. She waved Zephyr and their good-natured smile goodbye, heading back behind the counter.

Before Aurora cashed out and locked up, she also gathered a selection of coffee beans and teas to bring for Omega and Zephyr. She closed the door the minute the clock hit six pm, and resisted the urge to run down the road to the Doctor’s surgery. They were a ten minute walk away at best, and Omega’s last appointment was at quarter-to-seven.

She decided to make a quick detour past the small grocery store. Tea and pastries were fine, but nothing beats the winter lurgy like hot soup. And crackers. Oh, and maybe chocolate, Aurora thought, throwing everything she could think of into her basket. At least with Mist living with a doctor, she would be well taken care of with painkillers and cold medication.

Her bag weighing heavily on her shoulder, she greeted Zephyr as she got to the surgery, perching on a chair in the waiting room while Omega finished seeing his last patient. Her feet swing nervously beneath her.

Aurora sat in the leather backseat of the silver saloon car, as Omega drove back to their house in the suburbs. As they pulled off the road, she saw Mist’s familiar ice-blue bicycle leaned against the side wall of the garage.

“Let me know when you want to go home, I can drive you back.” Zephyr offered, before directing Aurora to Mist’s room at the top of the stairs. She knocked shyly, it was too late to be scared of overstepping now.

“C’m’ in!” a croaky voice called from inside. Aurora gently opened the door, smiling cautiously at Mist and offering a small wave.

“Rory?” Mist’s eyes were rimmed with red, matching the colour of her nose, but they seemed to light up as the smaller ghoulette hovered in the doorway. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh you poor thing!” Aurora cooed, dodging the question of why Mist’s casual workplace acquaintance was suddenly knocking on her bedroom door. Mist really did look terrible; her face was tired and haggard and her skin even paler than usual. “Can I come in?”

“’F course.” Mist sniffed, hauling herself upright in bed.

“I’ve brought you cake, and tea, and you’re not going to sneak money into my tip jar for once,” Aurora chattered nervously. “Can I run you a bath? Or fluff your pillows? Are you hungry, I brought soup?”

Mist smiled weakly at Aurora’s enthusiasm, a little overwhelmed at the small ghoulette’s whirlwind of fervent hospitality.

“A bath would be nice, this cold’s making me feel disgusting. So would some soup, I haven’t eaten since yesterday night…”

“A bath is is then!” chirped Aurora, “And I’ve got tomato, chicken noodle, or vegetable broth?”

“Tomato, please.” Mist rubbed at her red-raw nose with a tissue. “Zeph could do all this y’know? Or Meg. Did Zephy drag you here?” Conniving scoundrel, Mist thought to herself, anything to win that silly bet with Omega.

“I wanted to.” Aurora shrugged, trying to conceal just how eager she’d been to visit, “Zephyr just drove me.”

Mist struggled to pull herself more upright and swing her feet out of bed, and Aurora made a move to assist her. As she did so, she looked down at the armful of goodies she was still clutching, before whirling around to find somewhere to put them. Mist’s room wasn’t at all how Aurora had imagined: every available surface seemed to be covered in clutter and trinkets, the opposite of the cool, minimalist personality she exuded. The walls were plastered with artwork, lending everything a warm and cosy feeling. Aurora eventually made space on the desk, moving a few mugs – some with pencils in, some with leftover tea – and stacking the assortment of sketchbooks into a rough pile.

While Mist sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the dizziness in her head to abate, Aurora headed into the en-suite and turned on the taps to warm up and begin to fill the bath. She looked around at the bottles on the windowsill, and poured in some blue bubble bath alongside the stream from the taps. Ocean Breeze, whatever that was meant to smell like.

“Thanks, ‘Ror,” rasped Mist, as she leaned against the doorframe, clean pyjamas in hand, “I can take it from here, unless you want to stay?” The exaggerated wink as she spoke told Aurora that she was only joking, and that despite Aurora secretly longing for more, this was just Mist’s normal flirtatious banter. At least she was feeling well enough for her usual wit to come through.

Aurora closed the door behind her as she left, and hovered in the bedroom until the taps turned off and the splashing sounds of Mist getting into the bathtub safely and without falling had quietened down. She grabbed some of her care package from the stash on the desk and headed back downstairs to make some tea and heat the soup.

Entering the kitchen, she found Zephyr at the table with a mug of the tea she gave them, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Omega paused where he was slicing vegetables and directed her to the kettle and microwave, grabbing a bowl and mug for her too. Aurora hovered awkwardly as she waited for the various liquids to heat, aware of Zephyr’s eyes burning a hole in her back the whole time. Out of the corner of her eye, she even thought she saw them making a gesture at Omega, like rubbing cash between their fingers and thumb. She put the bowl of soup and mug of tea onto a small tray Omega also presented, adding a few napkins and a spoon, before escaping back upstairs.

Balancing the tray in one hand, she knocked on the bedroom door again, entering when she got no response. The gentle sloshing sounds of water told her that Mist was still enjoying her soak, so she set the tray down on the desk and took a seat.

“I’m back!” she gently called at the bathroom door, “Let me know if you need anything else!” Mist hummed in acknowledgement.

Aurora took a look around the room while she waited, admiring the mishmash of colours and styles. Each item so clearly told a story, she wished she could ask about every single one. A small photo on the bookshelf made her smile: a younger Mist, probably round Aurora’s current age, was dressed in dungarees and pulling an uncharacteristically silly face at the camera from her seat atop a hay bale. A handsome dark-haired ghoul she recognised as the previous youth pastor Ifrit leaned against it, while Mountain and Swiss stood to one side, arms loosely around each other’s waists. Aurora couldn’t help the pang of jealousy she felt looking at the picture. Even though she knew they had only ever been friends, she was reminded that Mist had lived a life before she moved here, that there was no way she would ever fall for her young barista with a silly crush.

Abruptly, Aurora stood up and walked to the bed to straighten the duvet and fluff the pillows, perhaps with a little more force than was necessary. As she was tucking the foot of the blankets back in, Mist finally emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of fresh, ocean-scented steam. She looked to have more colour in her cheeks already, the worst of the pallid complexion she had worn before now gone.

“Feel better for that?” asked Aurora, smoothing the duvet with a final flourish, and moving out of Mist’s way.

“Much, thanks Rory,” Mist climbed back into bed, sighing as she sat up against Aurora’s carefully arranged stack of pillows. Once she was settled, Aurora brought over the tray, moving the mug to her bedside table so it didn’t spill. She tried not to stare too intently as Mist ate, smothering the protective fire that burned in her belly at seeing her devour the soup.

Instead, Aurora distracted herself by chattering at Mist about the daily gossip from the street. How Mrs Bloom from the flower shop had come in half an hour earlier than usual, coinciding with Mr Phipps from the jewellery boutique, and did this mean the elderly shopkeepers were finally getting together or not? And the teenager with the purple hair had been back to remove her Missing flyer from the noticeboard, as her pet cat had just been hiding in her neighbour’s garden shed the whole time, much to everyone’s relief.

As Aurora nattered away, she took Mist’s tray back to the desk once when she finished the soup and moved onto the tea, before lying back down under the covers. Aurora continued quietly recounting the day’s events until Mist’s breathing gradually slowed and evened out. Asleep. Aurora silently returned the empty mug to the tray, before grabbing a pencil and a scrap of paper to leave Mist a note in case she woke up wondering where her visitor had gone. She debated for a few seconds, before finally scribbling her mobile number on the bottom of the paper. Given how much time they spent together during the day, it was strange they hadn’t exchanged them yet, right?

She propped the note up on the bedside table and, in a moment of impulsivity, kissed two of her fingers before pressing them into the pillow, feeling Mist’s cool breath curl around them. Aurora shook her head, and grabbed the empty tray to leave before she made any more reckless confessions.

Zephyr drove her home in a comfortable, yet knowing, silence. Aurora felt slightly like she was the punchline to some joke she wasn’t aware of, but tried to think nothing of it. Surely spending your evening taking care of your favourite regular customer who might also be your friend but also might not be wasn’t that weird?

Aurora thanked Zephyr for the lift, choosing to slink off to her room as Swiss immediately invited them inside with promises of a fresh jar of honey from his bees. As she settled down for bed herself, mind still racing over the events of the day, her phone buzzed. Aurora felt her heart skip a beat as she read the message: Hi, it’s Mist. Thanks again for coming today, I’ll have to repay the favour sometime. xx

[writing-whump]

Too many bubbles

Matthew finds out bubbly drinks and milk don't mix. Warning for emeto, burps, upset stomach etc.

Matthew was ready for the day to finally end.

He had to leave early, so he didn't get to his morning run, so he also couldn't get to his shake, so he wasn't hungry in the hours he was supposed to be and it messed up his whole day.

To wake himself up for the stupid appointment with the teacher he got the first energy drink he could find in the convenice store. And when he got out he went for another one, cause he found a surprisingly good cherry flavour.

Maybe that should have been a warning enough. That he wasn't used to energy drinks and bubbly drinks. So he should have been careful. But somehow it happened that between the classes and the chaos, he didn't get to have any proper lunch, cause he was hungry at the wrong times and then he only got his cherry energy drink and he ended up drinking about five of them.

Walking home, his stomach was churning. It was upset, bloated and heavy with the bubbles. Matthew couldn't stand the looks people were giving him at the tram and opted to walk the few blocks, hoping it would also ease some of the pressure.

It didn't.

He was so looking forward to shut himself in the apartment and just have some proper alone time to be gross and deal with this. He was muffling burps the whole time as he walked. Why did there have to be so many people out at 4 p.m. anyway?

Finally unlocking the door to the shared apartment, he was welcomed by blissful silence and insistent order.

Isaiah was manic about keeping the place tidy, so this was the cleanest Matthew had lived, ever. Everything had to had its place and surfaces had to be empty, so they could be easily dusted off. Matthew would roll his eyes and complain, but it was effective.

Throwing his bag in the corner and shaking off his shoes without concern, Matthew threw himself onto the cream coloured sofa and sighed in relief. Finally.

Seline should have some work meetings with other university assistants until late today and Isaiah was hardly home preparing for his law exams.

Matthew unbuttoned his pants to as let the bloated loud organ out and massaged at the bubbles to work up some burps. The first few were so loud he self-consciously looked around. The sound carried something terrible with a two floors.

Isaiah just woke up one day and said he signed up for the law entrance exams. Just like that. He was eying a government research project for a while now - something about mental health and city planning and green spaces - and law seemed to be a plus.

So not worried he had not thought about it until now at all. He was doing the entrance and signed himself some classes for the semester, even though he wasn't planning on slowing down with his psychology master.

Apparently, Isaiah could start with the master degree outright if he did some compensation exams, since the master had an international law development focus.

Matthew didn't understand how Isaiah was going to handle so many classes. It just turned his head around.

Matthew had enough to do with his economy classes and he was doing the bare minimum to pass each year, not keeping up with the shortest study plan. He was late a semester or two, so he didn't stress if he got to all classes or not.

But he had to have the most overachieving roomates now. Isaiah with the two masters. Seline working on her PhD proposal and already with her assistant work, although the competition for prae doc scientific personal was crazy.

And here was Matthew, barely passing classes and two semsters late. Way to go.

It was easy to feel stupid between the two. Isaiah was a fussy perfectionist, but the results showed in his grades and professor preferences. He was accepted to more research projects during holidays than Matthew ever applied for.

Seline was an overthinking worryrat, but the passion and ease with which she taught students, did her presentations and wrote her seminar papers was amazing.

Matthew didn't care that much about school. He wanted to be pragmatic, get a useful degree and get out, cause it would heighten his chances. Maybe. Maybe it was just there to look good, since work had very little to do with what you studied. Economy was at least very practical.

Except that became of his temper he did lots of sports, especially running and boxing and then he also had the gym to keep in shape and them it all suddenly took a lot of time.

Maybe it was also his friend circles until now. Who needs school, the attendance was healf-hearted at best if it wasn't currently for exam season. Social sciences were considered to be the most useless anyway. Matthew thought the same thing until he met Isaiah and Seline. Both in social sciences, both wanted to stay in science, and their interest was on a completely different level.

He should really step up his game. Sooner rather than later, or they would leave him behind with their degrees, achievements and geeking.

Matthew massaged some more into his distended belly, ushering up some smaller burps, sprawling on the couch.

Yeah this was nice. He would just enjoy the free evening, get back into his schedule and start tomorrow.

"Hi, I'm home!"

Matthew fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Seline was trashing in the hall as she looked for her slippers. For a girl she was very clumsy and...ungraceful? He didn't notice until he had to live with her and her elephant heavy steps and tendency to crash into everything that stood in her way.

Matthew quickly threw the blanket next to him over his stomach and pants, hiding the annoying bloat and the opened zip. Not something for Seline's delicate eyes to see.

"They let us out early today! Can you believe that without the boss, the meeting takes only half its usual time? Seriously, I love love this job, but the team meetings are the most annoying obsolete things," she chattered as she carried shopping bags through the living room to the kitchen.

"You didn't have to buy stuff. I would have gone tomorrow," Matthew protested at the sight. He couldn't cook and hated cleaning, so shopping was the only contribution left aside the little fiddling with stuff to fix it. He was proud of that one.

"Just a small thing," she waved her hand at him to dismiss the point. "I wanted to try the new oat and nut milks. There are places in Vienna now where you won't get anything else and if I want to try your shakes, I might we well get used to the healthy milk too I'm told, since the shakes are half milk anyway and if I want to get used to a new milk, it better be a good taste. I bought like three sorts. Wanna try them all out?"

Matthew nodded, cause he was in full support of her trying out the protein shakes, getting the vitamins and trying out healthier milks. Whatever the cow milk was, it wasn't milk, but Seline loved it. This was an ongojng battle and a big step for her to initiate it herself. He didn't want to ruin it.

His stomach gurgled a bit, but he felt about ready to stop noticing it. It was fine, he probably massaged enough space into it to try a few sips of milk for sure.

That's when Seline brought six glasses and the three milk sorts, chattering about the fibres and contents.

Matthew swallowed nervously at the milks, but she was already porting it down the glasses and preparing three for him. Full to the brim.

"Don't you dare leave me alone with this! Your idea with the milk, so you better drink it too," she frowned in mocking as she lifted the first glass to him to bump it like champagne.

Matthew obediently clicked the glass to hers and put it to his mouth, smelling it suspiciously. Oat milk sure had a different smell to it. He grimaced a little but she was giving him a glare, so he gulped it down.

Maybe the quicker he got it behind him the better.

His stomach gurgled angrily at the first glass in irritated warning, but it was back to the angry burbling by the second.

Drinking the third glass of whatever weird milk sort it was had his stomach cramping properly.

Matthew scrunched his face and tried to inconspicuously get a hand under the blanket to rub at his stomach.

The last glass left a disgustingly sweet film in his throat and mouth and his stomach gurgled and whined as the milk hit the onslaught of bubbles.

Oh god.

Seline didn't seem to notice, chattering some more about stuff Matthew couldn't even pretend to follow anymore. He felt sweat forming on his face and neck as he fought the pressure down that clawed at his throat.

He turned his head to the side, a fist to his mouth, managing a soundless little burp. But it didn't help. His stomach was bubbling, he could feel the movement at the belly bottom and the tip, right under his skin.

And now the nausea joined the chorus.

The next cramp had him almost doubling over. Saliva was flooding his mouth as the bubbles fought angrily with the three sorts of heavy milk he wasn't used to. His skin was stretched to max and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he tried to breathe through the whines and the cramps. They returned with vengeance and gave him very little pauses to breath between them.

"Matt? Are you listening?" Seline asked, voice all innocent.

"YeaH-urrp-" Matthew presed his closed fist to his mouth. Talking was a bad idea, very risky. "...sure I am."

"Well, you don't look it," she said, hands on her hips from where she sat across him.

Matthew lifted his gaze to her, when a giant bubble pressed at his stomach and rushed up his throat. His cheeks puffed out, but he fought it down in panic. He couldn't, by good conscious, burp in front of Seline.

But that was the last drop. His stomach cramped and heaved and had Matthew scrambling up with urgency. The bubbles and milk wanted out, out, out.

In face of the panicked realisation he was going to throw up, Matthew headed for the kitchen, hand pressed against his mouth.

He made it to the sink at the last second as his stomach heaved and then the milk was rushing out of him with a loud splash of white watery vomit.

Before he could breathe, there was another wave, almost choking him on its way up. He coughed and splattered, the milk bubbling nastily at his mouth and dripping down his nose as he leaned against he sink with both hands.

This was terrible and it wasn't helping.

His stomach heaved and heaved, cramping hard and he wrapped an arm around it as he groaned against the flood of milk and cola and energy drinks he didn't even count or notice as he devoured them instead of lunch.

"Jesus Christ, Matthew! What the hell?" Seline was standing beside him, hand lightly on his back as she hovered, face resolutely turned away from the sink.

Matthew tried to answer only for another wave to rush out of him and his whole body heaved and shuddered as it landed in the sink. At least it was clean from any plates.

He burped another smaller and chunkier wave before a series of empty burps finally, finally eased up the pressure in his stomach. It deflated now, though it hurt from the cramps.

Matthew leaned his forehead against the sink in relief, holding onto the granite with both hands again as he rested.

"That was something. Like a real force," Seline commented, a little disgusted grin on her face as she rubbed his back. "You feeling better now?"

Matthew burped loudly, not minding anymore if she heard or not. He felt deliciously empty and free of the bubbly disaster, breathing hard through his nose and mouth. "...yeah. Sorry. Too many bubbly drinks."

"You should have said something! Bubbles and milk don't mix."

"I don't think the oat thing mixes with me either. Blah. Just the taste of it makes me nauseous."

"You just got a bad memory tied to it now," Seline smiled, tapping his back forcefully.

It ushered up another burp, from the pit of his stomach and Matthew worriedly leaned over the sink in case it brought up something.

But it was empty.

"Come on, let's sit you down." Seline was tugging at the back of his shirt. It was then that Matthew realised that in his rush, he left his pants unzipped.

The thought had his ears burning red.

Seline didn't seem to notice though, so he let the water run in the sink to wash his sickness away and let himself be dragged back to the couch.

Oh yeah, he was so ready for this day to be over already.

---

@bellysoupset