#yall need to stop awakening things in me

[fisheito]

I WENRRT FERAL IN BOOKWORM YAKUMO'S SECOND ROOM

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

ASTROLOGY TIPS - ASPECTS

Sun/Venus - A person with a sun/venus aspect has a charming ability that can masks itself into getting others to do what you want. The original sirens. Learning how to express this more often can garner them more fame, respect and power. They are naturally popular, but if they dont know how to awaken it, they usually have to embrace their sensuality much more often and get more into the spotlight.

Jupiter/Moon - Knowing what works is a natural ability they have. This takes a little arrogance on their end (jupiter) and trusting the power of intuition (moon) to make it more favorable. It seems as if that placement just knows things without knowing. And they should be more honest with themselves instead of guarding this gift. You never know when someone is going to need your intellect in somethning.

Mars/Moon - Hidden geniuses when it comes to working hard for something. That inner passion they feel sparks up real big energy, so a small tip for them is to work on that thing each day no matter what. It could be 30 minutes a day or whatever, but to keep the drive and focus churning more they have to keep the momentum.. because once they stop its harder to get back in with that same momentum.

Pluto/Sun - Transformative by nature, they need to spend more time in nature imo.. Nature is the inner reflection of us all, so these people have to learn to transform themselves like the way of the water, the trees, butterflies etc. Like how the seasons change, so do y'all. Very similar in nature to sun/neptune but more on the darker end. You guys need to be at peace with your transcendence and not reject it. The more you open yourself up to others the more powerful you become. <3

Mars/Jupiter - Being able to focus on a path that makes your heart sing, that is transcendence. You guys have a big appetite for learning, so putting all your effort in making a stronger impact on your mind is necessary. The choices you make in bettering yourself is a form of self-mastery and at some point might take up space. We're dealing with jupiter, after all.

Sun/Moon - Whew. I love yall. such a whimsical energy present. Your love for yourself and the world is a reflection of the inner child that is always constantly moving. Keep doing you, is my main tip. Focus on having a more balanced presence, and doors will open up for you much more easily. Got it?

Mercury/Jupiter - Talk. Talk. Talk. But talk about the things you love, what excites you, what makes your world much bigger. Your infinite mind is the key to enrichment in your journey, so why not share that with others who might be interested in the same. It could be as simple as a good book you just finished reading. Inviting others to how you see the world will attract more followers to you that you ever knew.

Neptune/Moon - Learning to accept your boundaries with others helps you heal a lot more than you realize. You're not for everyone, your cool, calm collected nature is what attracts people to you like flies... but its not for everyone to receive. You get me? Just be open to more out there, because the world is your oyster no matter who tells you otherwise. K <3

If you're interested in learning more, check out my tags! Also, if you want to know anything about your own chart, feel free to go into my asks! Thanks for reading, chow :)

[copdog1234]

Man, I was watching the movie and the entire time I was thinking "Wow. This would've been so much more satisfying in the show" because the show has earned it. The show's writing is far from perfect, it has many, many flaws, but my god is it far better than Miraculous Awakening will ever be. And I'll tell you why.

I will preface by saying, yes, an hour and a half movie has way less time than a TV show with several episodes to build up characters and relationships, so time constraints will make it so we may not get as much depth in the on-screen relationships.

You know what, though? The time they spent playing mediocre songs could've been used better to show us all the things the songs had to outright tell us. Cause that was the problem.

The movie sure liked telling us how the characters were feeling. It rarely showed it. Like could you tell me why movie Marinette liked Adrien? Because I couldn't. What did he do to earn her affection beside look pretty? Why did we only get a montage of them getting closer instead of actually seeing it? Or how we never really see much of Gabriel and Adrien's struggles with the loss of Emilie, we simply get glimpses. How am I supposed to feel anything when Gabriel stops being Hawk Moth when this movie showed us literally nothing of their strained relationship? And then there's Gabriel's claim that he did absolutely everything to get Emilie back. No he didn't. He did actually nothing. He freed a couple of criminals and then akumatized himself. That's it. That's all he did.

Could you tell me why Alya decided to befriend Marinette? Could you tell me why Adrien "who decided not to get close to anyone" was friends with Nino? Could you tell me why Chloe was so confident Adrien had any interest in her when they never actually interacted?

And then there wasnt enough explanation on how anything that we should've been told worked. Could anyone really tell me how these versions of the miraculous work? Or why Master Fu was in possession of them? Or why they really chose their holders? Could you tell me if the kwami had much personality and were necessary?

Like, I will say, there were funny moments, the animation was nice, and there were cool set pieces, but where was the substance?? It was nonexistent. If you don't watch the show, would you know or feel anything for what was going on in this movie?

Cause even for me, who does watch the show, I didn't.

Think about this. The show has even faked out multiple reveals to me and every time I was hyped and screaming, I have read fanfiction of these same to characters falling in love and confessing every which way and I've swooned, but we get reveals and love confessions that are real and permanent in this movie and I felt. Nothing.

It's okay if yall disagree with me, but I just needed to get this off my chest. I'm hard on this movie because I wanted it to be good because I love the characters and story from the show.

[cheesus-doodles]

Star-Crossed by Choice: Chapter 3

Yandere Raihan & Leon with Champion Darling

Pokemon SwSh and SV Crossover

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<< Chapter 1 | 2

Masterlist

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apologies for the sudden hiatus yall ;-; i've been pulling midnight days almost every day for the past month for work on top of dealing with quite a severe writer block - things has been calming down somewhat so I look forward to ramping up my writing again! thank you for your patience :3

“You ungrateful little whore,” Raihan all but snarled out, the whites of his gritted teeth glinting in the dim street light as he stared you down.

Your body instantly reacted, attempting to stumble back and away despite having collapsed on the ground, your trembling gaze all but locked on Raihan’s icy teals, unable to turn away. If looks could kill, you wouldn’t be dead, no - the fate that awaited you was so much worse than the kind embrace of death. Your Cinderace let out an uncertain trill as it looked back at you, quickly followed by an annoyed one as it shifted to block your view of the gym leader. The astute Pokemon you had the honor to call your partner was more than well aware of the situation, though its efforts did little to stop the shivers that wrecked your body as you tried and failed to force yourself to get up and move.

Raihan was hardly deterred. “After all I’ve done for you, after all you’ve put me through-” The taller man took a step forward, his towering shadow falling over you, eyes almost seeming to glow in the dark and he stared you down. “This is how you repay my love?” 

It was as if your Cinderace barely existed between the two of you, those narrowed eyes piercing straight past the Pokemon and into your soul, a shot from a harpoon that hooked into your flesh and froze you in place. There was no right answer to his question, even if you could muster the words to reply, because there wasn’t supposed to be one; you were never right. Only wrong. 

The town of Cortando was predictably quiet at this time of the night, with residents and student visitors having long retreated into their beds to prepare for the coming day. You envied them - and you always had - having the freedom that the new dawn would bring to look forward to. And even though you treasured every day you could roam the rolling hills of Paldea, free from the shackled throne you were forced to sit upon in Galar, it wasn’t without needing to constantly look over your back for the monsters that lurked in the shadows.

And now, the freedom you had so carefully constructed for yourself was threatening to shatter before your eyes. 

You gulped, pleading eyes sliding to glance at Nemona, who was still staring blankly at the whole ongoing shitshow. What now? Could you simply give all this up? Go back to the safety of what you knew? You had to, your mind screamed at you. Concede now, surrender and return peacefully before it’s too late, and you could maybe still enjoy some semblance of the miniscule comfort you had before your abrupt escape.

But it was your heart and the sinking feeling in the base of your gut that told you the truth. That it was already too late for you: you had forced the Hammerlocke gym leader into giving up all pretense of playing the persona he was so loved for, and like an awakened dragon, the man you faced was now one usually reserved only for you and your transgressions against him. Allowing others to lay eyes on such a private side of him would hardly be kind to you if Raihan got his way.

“Hey! Eyes here while I’m talking to you,” the man snapped, and your gaze immediately jumped back to meet his, the hair on the back of your neck standing as you realized that you had been too obvious in allowing your attention to waver away from Raihan. If Cinderace hadn’t been between the two of you, you were sure around your neck was exactly where the other’s hands would be at this precise point in time. “Do I mean so little to you now, princess? Just trash to be cast aside, huh?”

What now? What else?

‎

Yet that was hardly the whole sum of your issues at the moment. Allowing your eyes to slide away from Raihan once more as the man continued to vent and rant to himself, and there in the dim yellow light waited another patient pair, Leon looking deceptively relaxed from where he was leaned against an unassuming lamppost lazily scanning his surroundings, just a stone’s throw behind the hoodie-touting gym leader. And as if he could feel your wide-eyed stare, the ex-Champion looked up, catching your eyes lingering on him. Smirking as he dropped whatever it was that he had been tossing from one hand to the other, the purple-haired man leisurely strolled over, clapping one hand over an unusually agitated Raihan’s shoulder. “Calm, Raihan,” Leon smirked, golden eyes having never left yours. “She’s still here.”

Raihan let out an annoyed tsk, shaking Leon off of him, though the gym leader did take a deep breath and calmed down. 

I’m still here, you repeated mentally. So close where they could almost grasp you, your eyes flickering between the two as their shadow only seemed to grow longer and longer, swallowing you up and dragging you further from the light, yet so far away. Your chances to get away were only getting slimmer with every passing minute. Having to shake Raihan off was one thing, with the blue-eyed man’s seemingly dragon-like senses and his ability to read you like an open book, but adding Leon into the equation was a whole different ball game.

But you had to try. Giving up and returning to that life that awaited you, it simply wasn’t an option, if not for you, then for your beloved Pokemon friends. You’ve already beaten them once, you tried to reassure yourself. All that time ago, when you had become Galar Champion, and then again and again every Championship. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, you shifted your hand, dipping into your pocket to pull out a small clicker, all the while wrecking your brains to come up with a plan. You just had to beat them again this time. Give up, those nagging voices at the back of your mind urged again.

Far from the rage that Raihan had worked himself into, Leon was still calm and collected, the tanned man with a mob of purple hair reaching out towards you, offering one ungloved hand as if an olive branch. “It’s time to come home, love,” he reassured. “It’s not too late. Everything’ll go back to normal, same way it always was, if you come home with us now. I promise.”

A lie. You know better to fall for those honeyed words - that hadn’t been a question but an order. You closed your eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. It was all too much for you.

Those amber eyes moved to lock onto your Cinderace. “And you. Return to your Pokeball.”

Your partner pokemon bristled, letting out a warning growl.

‎

Leon had always frightened you, more than Raihan ever did. The Dragon gym leader had always been very obvious, very deliberate with his actions, never bothering to hide his intentions, to the extent of making it public to his leagues of fans the moment you were in his grasp. But you hadn’t even noticed the once-undefeated Champion’s claws wrapping around you until he already had you trapped.

The glimpse of purple hair you kept catching from the corner of your eye had you momentarily thinking of Hop, your oldest and dearest friend that you had left behind in Galar. You wondered how he was doing, whether he still thought of you like you did of him. Whether he had already achieved his goal of researching rare pokemon. Whether he still looked up to his older brother after what Leon had done to him the day you toppled Goliath and became reigning Champion.

You thought about writing to him from time to time, especially during those lonely nights when you camped out in the far corner of some field, stoking a crackling fire under the twinkling stars with your Pokemon fast asleep around you. You remembered when Hop would join you to feast on curry when the two of you were kids, when neither had any worries beyond homework and whether the channels would have the latest episode of your favorite show. But you had always decided against it at the end of the day, worried about being tracked down should Leon get a hold of one - and you could only offer simple wishes up to whatever deity was listening that Hop was doing well. 

Fat load of good that did you.

Your hand moved fast, tapping away on the converted morse paddle key hidden to the side of your body: non-verbal instructions to your Cinderace. Not only was it a system that both you and your Pokemon were well accustomed with, having practiced it again and again throughout the course of the Galar Championships and beyond, but it also took advantage of Pokemon’s natural heightened senses and your two self-established “guardians” inability to understand. And you knew your partner heard you loud and clear, the bunny Pokemon’s ear twitching in acknowledgement despite keeping its back turned to you.

Though despite your best attempts, your unspoken communication didn’t go unnoticed. Leon’s face darkened, in step with Raihan snarling. “Not going to use your words?” “What did I say about clicking?”

Fortunately, right on cue, Cinderace took a quick swipe at them, forcing the two men back a few paces to avoid the tip of its feet before your partner retreated back to stand guard in front of you. 

The breeze had picked up once more, carrying with it the calls of Hoothoot and the rustle of grass from outside of town, the fields alive with nocturnal Pokemon. You shivered in the warm wind, your mind racing. One step down, countless more to go. Could you pull it off?

‎

‎

It was far too obvious that you weren’t giving up the fight just yet, Raihan mused, sharp eyes lasering in on you as you kept your gaze downturned and focused on the ground, his grin only seeming to lengthen with the shadows that danced in the night. Sure, you had always been on the timid, shy side, even to the point of being a selective mute, but he could tell this was one of those rare times where your instinct to struggle against the current bubbled to the surface. You had always been a crafty little thing when you needed to.

Yet the scales were still tipped in his favor.

“Fiery,” the Hammerlocke gym leader all but purred out, pulling your attention out from your thoughts. “You sure you wanna do that though?” He reached into his pocket, and you flinched on instinct. Good.

 Pulling out an all-too familiar Pokeball, the orb was clutched in one tanned hand held halfway out, just enough for the light to catch its top. 

You turned pale, staggering to your feet immediately, your eyes locked on that ball. No doubt you would easily recognise the Pokeball he now held as your own: the once-glossy red surface painstakingly decorated with cute little details that he imagined you carving with the tip of a knife in the light of a campfire once upon a time, far out in the Wild Area and away from prying eyes. “You know who this is, don’t you, lil champ?”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, tears beginning to well in the corner of your already swollen eyes as you tried to shake your head, attempting to plead silently to spare you the pain. 

Ah that helpless, what a sight for sore eyes indeed. If only you could voice that plea.

And with a quick toss, it was clear to the hooded trainer that he had only confirmed your worst nightmares, Lapras bursting forth and manifesting before Cinderace with a cry. Back when he had let his guard down and allowed you to escape from his grasp back in Galar, you had managed to slip away with just six of your Pokemon - your prized Pokemon to say the least, given those six formed the core of your Championship team. But, Raihan smirked, casually sliding both hands into the pockets of his hoodie, it was no secret you cared deeply for all your Pokemon, and those you left behind were still in his and Leon’s possession. 

Even your Cinderace seemed uncertain of the evolving situation, breaking its fighting stance to glance between you and its former ally. 

Now, what were you going to do next?

‎

‎

Your world felt like it was on the brink of imploding, the very air just a wrong touch away from collapsing around you. That wretched thick black collar that hung from Lapras’ neck, one you were all too familiar with - you could barely bite back the whimper that you felt threatening to escape from your throat. Whatever you did, one wrong move and you would once again be the sole cause of the world of suffering Lapras would be put through.

You shaking met Lapras’ eyes, to which the Pokemon let out a mournful sigh, and Cinderace returned a sad trill. It wasn’t the first time both had found the other on opposing sides since you had your living arrangement forcibly updated at the end of the Galar Championship, but neither liked the outcome. Maybe Leon and Raihan were right. Maybe you should just give in and end the pain. 

“Just leave her alone already!” A sudden interruption that sliced through the silence of the night like a hot knife through butter, and Nemona came stomping over from behind him, an uncharacteristically furious expression painted across the usually cheery girl. “She doesn’t want to go with you!” With a distinct lack of fear in her eyes and a lack of care for who your two pursuers were on the world stage, your friend marched past them without a second glance, putting herself squarely on your side and in your corner.

The Champion-ranked trainer turned to you. “Don’t get me wrong, I most definitely want to have a battle with you once all this blows over,” she declared, pausing for a moment before continuing on. “And I want to know everything. But I’m on your side. Got it?”

You simply nodded.

There was little question that Raihan and Leon would be angry, and you didn’t need to look to know just how downright pissed they were. Instead opting to turn your gaze to Nemona then to the ground, it was as if your mind had connected the dots faster than you could have realized, and you had to take a second look at the uniform-clad girl. Right before it hit you like a charging Rhyhorn, the sudden realization instantly shaking your entire perspective and turning your world upside down. 

You were no longer in Galar. 

Yes, there was no doubt that Raihan and Leon were still Master Class trainers that have conquered the World Coronation Championships, and were most definitely famous even here in Paldea as the famous Dragon Gym Leader of Hammerlocke and the former Galar Champion. But missing were the leagues of women who would throw their weeks away to comb every inch of grass for signs of you on Raihan’s command. And gone were the nosy trainers who would be more than happy to turn over information on your location just for a word of praise from Leon, or the crowds of your self-declared fans who could recognize you turned inside out from a yard away.

They were as good as nobodies here, and so were you.

‎

And now all the wheels began to turn. The modified morse paddle key that served as your clicker went into overdrive as you tried to get your thoughts out to Cinderace as fast as your fingers could go.

You could get away. There was still a way out for you.

Raihan seemed to have caught on to the sudden hope that surged in your veins, the toothy grin on his face dropping as he narrowed his eyes. “Lapras, Hydro Pump,” he ordered.

Lapras resisted, letting out a defiant cry as it rebelled against his orders. Your countdown has started.

Two clicks, and your Cinderace leapt forward, foot extended to land a Double Kick.

You didn’t look to see if the attack landed, attempting to turn out all external sounds from your buzzing ears; the butterflies in your chest already made it hard enough to keep breathing. Instead, you cleared your throat, your mouth moving as you tried to force a word, a sound, anything from your vocal chords. “S-St-” You exhaled, shuddering, your efforts going unnoticed amidst the chaos of the moment.

The Dragon Gym Leader had withdrawn a small remote, a promise, not a threat. “Lapras, use Hydro Pump,” he ordered again.

It wasn’t enough. A full word. All you needed was a single full word. If not for yourself, then for the hell that your Pokemon had been through - there was no other choice. You had to do it.

Nemona’s eyebrows were furrowed as she watched the battle go down, the other three trainers paying little attention to you as you carefully tiptoed over to retrieve your backpack off the ground, the clock in your head ticking down slowly but surely. Tick tock, the nagging voices in your head whispered to you. Tick tock.

There was little time to decide what the right move was, whether you did the right thing; you simply rationalized that you should pick whoever you wouldn’t mind being stuck with again should you have to return to Galar. Raihan did treat you like royalty whenever he wasn't angry at some unspoken rule that you unknowingly broke, and would only increase should you pick him, with the downside being the numerous eyes and constant spotlight that followed the popular trainer around. While no doubt that Leon’s treatment of you would improve greatly if you picked him, the man had always been very demanding, holding you to an impossible standard.

Reaching into your backpack right for your Pokemon as Cinderace dodged the jet of water aimed at him, everything that happened next took but a blink of an eye.

‎

All you could muster the strength to mutter was a single word, yet it was enough. A broken whisper of a single syllabus, mumbled by a hoarse voice that didn’t seem to see much use. “Raihan-”

Both men instantly startled, amber and aqua eyes snapping straight to yours as their jaws dropped. But it was all the distraction you needed.

Click. Your Vileplume manifested, instantly using Stun Spore, with both Vileplume Cinderace being recalled to their respective balls before the yellow dust even touched the ground.

You grabbed Nemona’s arm, yanking her backwards with surprising strength as you clutched your backpack tight to your chest. Another shrill song as Gardevoir manifested, the Psychic pokemon lightly touching its green sleeve-like arms to you, using Teleport.

And in under a minute, your little group was gone, vanishing without a trace from Cortondo.

‎

‎

“She-she said my name,” Raihan mumbled again and again, sounding very much star-struck. “My name. M-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Leon snapped back, annoyed.

Being left sprawled on the ground waiting for the effects of the paralysis to fade didn’t help much with the former Galar Champion’s mood, even less so when you had been just an arm’s length away. One grab away from going back to how life had been with you. And now, Leon had to live with the fact that after years and years of patience, waiting eagerly for a chance to hear your elusive voice. Soft and gentle, like the trickle of a river, your voice had been everything he ever imagined and more - and it was his rival’s name that left your lips first. 

It must be her, the purple-haired man fumed, a soft glow of red as an equally paralyzed Lapras was recalled to its ball by a giddy, giggling Raihan. That stupid Champion-ranked girl with the green highlighted hair. All his time and effort, taming and training you into his love - and she had broken his perfect you the moment his back was turned. All his work for nothing, gone like sand art at high tide.

Letting out a groan as Leon finally felt control of his body return, he could only slam the back of his head into the dust once in frustration before standing. 

Raihan had won this fight, but Leon sure as hell was going to make sure he wins the war.

[whyreyousoobsessedwithme]

Do you think PTJ will make Gun x Crystal a ship? I mean, the fanart on his page might be foreshadowing something plus he likes to throw in ships at the worst times. And since Gun didn't let Charles kill Crystal because he either felt bad or wanted to see how far Charles will go for his goal of becoming a king, he might end up catching feelings for her. I mean it looks like a platonic, sibling-like relationship but we thought the same for Vin and Sujin so.💀

527- 530 Spoilers, thoughts + theories. I know I was supposed to answer this like 3 weeks ago, but I've been busy with work and other things.

Personally, I hope not. What those two need rn is therapy and healing. But yeah, I could see ptj making Gun fall for Crystal. It'll be onsided for sure, though. It's kind of obvious he plans to put Daniel and Crystal together. Hopefully, they maintain a platonic relationship, I really think it would benefit both Gun and Crystal since they're both lonely children suffering due to their family's actions.

527

How the hell did Gun end up on the beach like that without anyone else noticing him?

It is genuinely pissing me off how normal and kind Gap is acting despite being a serial cheater. "A place without honor," he says, like he doesn't cheat on his wife every Tuesday.

I have a lot of questions about how Gun got into prison. Did Gap pull some strings? Did he steal something in order to be put there because he had a white collar, but that would mean that the court was invovlved too and since Gun is a Japanese citizen wouldn't they try to contact his family? OMG, I hope they didn't make him spread the cheeks for inspection. He's too young.😟

Pls, I was joking when I said he probably went to prison to train

I NEED to know how Charles ended up as a prison volunteer. Also, how did Gun recognize him? Did he also come in contact with Charles in the past?

I need to know exactly just what Charles' plan was that he was willing to beg Gun and kill his own child. This old hairstyle of his also confirms that he was the one who hit crystal in the past, and after reading this chapter, it was most likely because she was ruining his plan by being too weak and emotional.

Gun hit a growth spurt in prison, yet somehow his clothes still fit him?

I don't think Goo stabbed his master on purpose, and even if he did, he probably had a good relationship with his master. Also, cut down goblins, really? (I'm being picky i know)

528

I personally think Goo, at least in the past, is stronger than gun.

I think the reason Gun yaps so much during fighting is because he's having fun.

Not Goo being Gun's sexual awakening

It always baffles me how these guys fight literally anywhere, and NO-ONE ever walks in on it. Like people visit the park ALL the time.

Shintaro already looks like he's not taking it well. The guilt is settling in. He looks worn out by everything.

529-530

It's shocking and low-key annoying to know the main reason Gun ruined so many lives is because he wanted to see a hypothetical situation play out to heal his daddy issues.

No way these grown ass men's first thought at seeing Gun again was "goblin"

Momma Park coming thru at the end, I told yall she cared for him in her own way.

Ptj, please stop making their bitties bigger than their head, its scaring me😭

Somi and Shingen both grew up in an environment where they experienced little to no familial love. It makes sense that she didn't realize it was her maternal instincts kicking in. One thing I didn't like, though , was how ptj made someone as strong as Shingen SULK over a defeat for 10+ years. Like, I know it was probably because of his decided fate, which led to him prioritizing fighting and meeting someone who can basically outdo him in the one thing he's supposed succeed at is shocking, but there could've been more depth. Like all that because he lost?!

Seeing Somi laying there bleeding out makes me realize how young she is. There was definitely a massive age gap in her marriage. She looks close to my age tbh, thinking about it now, she was mostly likely groomed into becoming a tool for her family to use for their sake.

Shintaro, girl, fuck you. Tf you mean "send you behind her", go follow your son instead.

Ptj, enough with the naked men😭

King of Busan looks like Taesoo 2.0. Let's just hope he didin't take after Gap in cheating, too.

I wonder if Gun came across Jinrang in prison?

[angeledeggs]

Can you pls do a HC for the courtiers where their S/o caught some illness and fell into a coma due to it? (Sleeping beauty sorta). Also how would they react after they wake up after a year or two? (:

//How are you doing? Had a nice day so far

This is so creative, yeah, I'll do it! I'm alright. Sorry writing has taken me longer 😭 I'm trying to make it higher quality for y'all to enjoy<33 thank all of yall for the requests!

Valerius🍷:

Oh gods, he's a mess.

He's already kind of a drinker but he DEFINITELY is drinking much more the first few weeks you fall into a coma.

Then he realizes that like, he definitely can't do that, what if you wake up and see him a drunken mess?

But then he realizes that you waking up is an if, and he drinks more.

He only stops when there happens to be a coincidental shortage of all spirits and all of the sort, and everything kind of clicks into place for him.

He has definite faith that you're going to wake up, and barely leaves your side.

He's a politician and as such, has countless meetings and scheduled appearances and things like that.

He ignores every one.

He'll make sure to take care of you in your coma, constantly checking your pulse, you're temperature, your breath. He even pays hundreds of physicians to try and help you, but none can find the answer. So he just stays with you and hopes.

He feels like a creep, always sitting with you, but he knows you're his lover and he'll stay with you for as long as it takes until you wake up.

He has so many dreams of you that when you finally awake, his first thought is he's dreaming. His hands reach out for you, though, instinctively, and when he touches your skin and sees your eyes he knows it's not a dream and bursts into tears immediately.

He'll definitely call your wake a miracle and will choke out prayers for the first time in years as he holds you.

Vlastomil🐛:

Valerius might numb the pain he feels with wine, but Vlastomil doesn't engage in such disgusting alcohol for his body.

The first few weeks he's anxiously jumping everytime he thinks he sees your breath sputter or pause, and is quick to check your breath and heartbeat.

He's desperate, and tries to read every book for anything he can find about your coma. He calls doctors, magicians, curse breakers, everyone, but he cant find anyone to help.

When the first month of your coma happens, he takes up smoking again.

But not just any type of smoking, no. When he was younger he would go for a cigar every now and then, but in the event of your coma he smokes two packs of simply cigarettes, right in a row, and when his chest wheezes, he only feels numb.

He never smokes in your room, he always smokes on the balcony, as he's too afraid that the smoke will hurt you.

After around a week of chain-smoking, he finally just quits. There's no point, as it barely calms him down. But he still shakes for cigarettes, for your awakening, so he drinks cup after cup of tea.

He finds it hard just to make one cup, when he's become so accustomed to making two.

You awake as his tea water is boiling, but he hears the slightest shift from your room and runs in so quickly that he knocks the pot clean off the stove.

He bursts into immediate, relieved tears when he sees you're finally awake, and embraces you as he falls to his knees, unable to even get out how he missed you so.

Valdemar💉:

They don't need anyone else's help.

You're the love of their life, they will be the one to care for you. They needn't any other doctor, any other magician, any of their assistants, nothing.

They practically dote on you, wait on you as if it is their life's duty. And as far as they're concerned, it is now, because they have abandoned their work and left it to collect dust in the dungeons.

They even leave their beloved beetles to Julian to take care of, for the are bugs and their pride and joy, yes, but you are the one person that softens them, their beloved, someone who they are certain is their soulmate.

They grow frustrated after months and months. They're a doctor, a scientist, a genius, dammit, and they can't figure out what's wrong.

They consider making another deal for your consciousness. But no. They will not sacrifice what's left of them another time. They will not rope you into their own mistakes. They will not give the devil what he wants.

They're transformed in the months of your coma. Their bandages are either dreadfully tight or messily loose, no in between, and their already gaunt body has turned thinner with the stress.

They are in a state of always checking your pulse, always stroking your hair, always whispering to the sun and moon their love for you, their pleas for you to return.

They move you often from not just laying but sitting positions so that when you awake you have no aches. For you will wake up. You will wake up or they will go with you.

And when you finally wake up, they can barely even speak. They can't speak. You have taken their work, their motivation, their remaining care for the beetles. They simply can't do it without you. And they drop to their knees in front of you, reaching for the pulse on your wrist, to feel it.

They feel a steady beat, rather than the slow, sleepy one that had plagued you in your coma. And they slump in relief, smile, kiss you with their mask on in their rush. You're back.

Volta🍰:

She just thinks you're really tired, at first. Then you're sleeping two days in a row and she is quite worried. She thinks you might be drunk or injured, but the alcohol cabinet is the way she left it and your body is relaxed with that of sleep, not slow death.

She's of course, an anxious mess. Usually, she simply cries when stressed, but she finds herself so worried that her tears turn into yelling. She screams at every doctor that doesn't know what to do with you until soon no more doctors will come and assess the situation.

She's so worried for you, that you'll die, and for a few days she ends up sleeping next to you, sobbing softly and praying to whoever will listen that she wants you to be fine when she wakes up. And after a few days she knows it's pointless.

She does her best to keep you comfortable, always adjusting your blankets to make sure your temperature is fine, carefully brushing your hair, trying to rouse you by lighting the incense.

She also tries to keep calm. She feels as though she is a doll that is splitting at the seams, and so she tries to engage in her hobby of baking, but when she finally finishes a cake and realizes you won't see it she collapses in the kitchen in grief.

She tries other hobbies.

Sewing is the only one she can handle, as she can be in the same room with you and sew you things for when you wake up. If you wake up. When you wake up.

She falls asleep with her needle and thread in her hand countless times and one day when she wakes, you're rubbing your eyes and sitting up.

Volta finds herself frozen for a long moment. Then she leaps over to you, wraps her arms around your shoulders and finally, she can cry and hold you with relief.

Vulgora⚔️:

They're usually very angry.

Usually.

But when they realize you're not sleeping, you're in a coma, they find themself a sudden, broken shell of their warrior spirit.

They try to reason with themself. They have won countless wars. They have killed thousands. They have seen countries rise and fall, and will continue to. But seeing you like this has made them weak.

You are their only weakness, and as such, they protect you with their life. Nobody hears of you or them, and they are constantly by your side, brushing back your hair and feeling for your heartbeat.

They rarely leave your side and as such, lose weight from how little they eat, in fear of leaving you and coming back to you hurt or.. Worse.

Their muscles are in a constant state of tense or shaking, and they find their strength has somehow left with your beautiful laugh and eyes. When they try to grab their sword, they crumble beneath their own very weapon that has slain all who faced them.

When you awake though, they suddenly stop shaking. Their muscles are hard with shock. And then they relax. And they collapse next to you, reach out for you, sighing of how relieved they are to see you awake, finally.

❀

PS GUYS OH MY GOD I THINK THIS MIGHT JUST BE ONE OF MY BEST WORKS I WASNT EVEN PLANNING TO RIGHT TODAY THIS ALL JUST HAPPENED LIKE OH MY GOD??? I GOT POSSESSED BY THE WRITERS BEFORE ME???? OH MY GOD YIPPEE

[laylacl9ck]

Theories / headcanon(?) I have about Silent salt cookie cause I can’t wait any longer I need Silent salt content or I’ll nuke the devs quarters >:(

When you think about it the title of vertus of “Silence” kinda tells a lot already about him like , was he reduced to silence to inflict it on everyone or was he the one who choose to impose it.

A thing I like to think about him is that his corruption was done by a random but important wizard or witch cookie and that is why he was “silent “ or something.

Also a thing I really want is that his voice would be extremely calm like he is whispering but only when he’ll show rage or fury he shouts and yells hella loud to the point it echoes .

And I think it’ll be sooo cool and dupper awesome if like in a dialogue with White lily cookie he “accidentally” calls her Dark Enchantress cookie instead of her actual name to remind her of her past life where she was evil and also about the cookies that were eaten right in front of her by the witches and how she hadn’t done anything to stop it (the amount of angst potential >:3 )

Btw if Silent salt cookie doesn’t inflict any physical damage to White lily cookie or any other characters I might loose my shit cause when you think about it for example with Golden cheese cookie , her loosing her wings and then got her awaken form was kinda satisfying don’t yall think??

He probably will have an army of knight as his companion kinda like Mystic Flour cookie , Burning Spice cookie and Shadow milk cookie.

No face reveal please cause I’m kinda scared about it (by that I mean the reaction of the fandom being unsatisfied)

He probably might have a secret liking in birds because unlike him they’re free to go and do as they wish no matter the environment or surroundings and that’s why I also imagine that he has a pure hatred towards the Ancients and White lily cookie specifically because of their freedom and happiness

Speaking of White lily cookie , there might be a very interesting lore part upcoming with Silent salt and White lily because I think the beast probably (or definitely idk) know about the ancients past so again , Silent salt seeing that White lily is free from her past and can move on freely would probably have enraged him cause for him she didn’t suffered enough (she absolutely did but you get it ) and again like I said earlier, he might remind her of Dark Enchantress cookie and tell her how selfish she was for trying to create cookies that are less weak instead of trying to protect them as they were

I kinda want him to give of the same vibe as Gabriel from UltraKill or Capitano from Genshin Impact

He also probably has a bad opinion on Shadow milk cookie and thinks he’s an incompetent idiot leader because of how many times he failed on getting his own Soul Gem and just thinks he’s straight up annoying with how he talks and act like, that’s why he really wished to be the one on the lead of the beast

His emotions are noticeable by the weird flames he has on his helmet and also those eyes (?) maybe????

PLS DEVSISTER GIVE ME SILENT SALT COOKIE CONTENT I NEED HIM !1!1!1!1!

[felikatze]

yall know i take heroes for a grain of salt unless it suits my agenda,,, but man brave robin's forging bonds is all over the place

namely in how the whole grima thing is handled

it swings HEAVILY in favor of the "grima is possessing robin" angle yet it ALSO ties grima's awakening explicitly to robin's emotions, which, why would that matter if he's possessed?

the phrase "blood of the fell dragon" comes up a lot. also iirc first time a grima calls robin a vessel? grima sure doesn't in awakening itself (fp notwithstanding), and also only female grima does it??? either by intent or happenstance it seems that f grima is gunning for the possession angle where as m grima is more on the emotions angle

like there's dissonance going on about the plain text of the conversation ("grima will take control of robin") and the themes of the conversation ("this can be averted if robin maintains hope, and even the grimas could become robin again if they find it")

ok let me just. compile.

obligatory disclaimer: i am in HUGE favor of the reincarnation angle and vocal disliker of the vessel angle but only my fellow grima stans know that and i cant expect everyone to have in depth knowledge of my grima takes. i am gonna Try to be a lil objective here

tldr intsys needs to stop being apolitical and just PICK A SIDE within the grima trenches already. add to this the timeline confusion of depths of despair, yeah, Grima in heroes is very muddy.

ok so i took a whole BUNCH of screenshots and they're all in german because (points at map of where i live) but that tends to follow english closely. expect minor translation differences ofc

C Support

This one is pretty plain in just the grimas waltzing up to robin going "hey grima is gonna possess you one day lmao. get scared"

Choice quotes from this one:

1. Robin: W-who are you? No, oh no... Could you be what becomes of me under the fell dragon's influence?

2. F Grima: Know your place, mortal. You are nothing more than Grima's vessel.

Yah. I can argue abt the validity of heroes lore all I like but within the convo itself this is just plain text.

B Support

So this is where the first doubts creep in. F Grima continues her spiel about Robin saying that "Grima's blood flows in those veins without a doubt." I wont reiterate every single time someone does this bcuz Image Limit, but it is primarily F Grima and Brave Robin.

1. M Grima: The knowledge of what you really are will haunt you forever.

2. F Grima: That is all we had to say to you. Take our words to heart... other Robin.

Here we get into my preferred angle. Not only is M Grima saying that being Grima is Robin's true nature, but F Grima directly acknowledges that she and M Grima are both also Robin, which is an odd choice if it's just Grima possessing Robin speaking. Cuz then the person speaking would not, in fact, be Robin.

Then, when the two Grimas are alone and giggling at their rehearsed performance, F Grima says this:

1. F Grima: Maybe the created discomfort will be enough to awaken the Fell Dragon.

2. F Grima: Maybe soon, monstrous flowers of ruin will bloom from the sown doubt.

So this is getting into the logistics of how Grima will awaken (inevitably, of course /s). In Awakening itself, a read of Robin as the vessel would have you believe only the rite at the Dragon's Table is necessary to do so. Here, however, F Grima says it's Robin's despair that will cause Grima's return, which she has already sown the seeds for.

In fact, causing Robin to doubt himself to sooner awaken Grima is explicitly what the two Grimas approached him for. This is their goal! But why would that even be necessary if all that was needed was for Validar to brainwash Robin and drag them to the Table? No despair needed! Robin's emotional state is irrelevant in that scenario.

You can argue of course that emotional weakness would make it easier for Grima to take control of Robin,,, but that never comes up. It's always Robin loses hope = Grima awakens.

A Support

Here, Brave Robin mentions being of Grima's blood a whopping three times in a row before Chrom can cut in. The Grimas words weigh on his mind and he's looking for reassurance from his boyfriend.

Brave Robin: The blood of the Fell Dragon could awaken within me one day... Doesn't that scare you?

Chrom's response here is notable. (Images cut for the damn 10 image limit on mobile)

Chrom: The day could come, where I, too, fall prey to my own despair. But even then I'm sure that I wouldn't stray from the right path with you by my side.

Again, Grima is not framed as a possessive force, but as Robin's own despair and hopelessness. Chrom would have no ground to compare the two if the former was the case. How would you even compare your own depression with your friend being taken over by a hostile spirit?

This is the dissonance I was talking about.

S Support

Robin, emboldened by Chrom's support, confronts the two Grimas.

F Grima: As long as you live, the Fell Dragon can take possession of you at any moment.

Robin says he has the blood of the demon dragon with the weird as hell "those veins" line. Who says that??? Did yall forget possessive pronouns exist. Just say "my veins" dear boy

anyway.

Robin: It's true that the blood of the Fell Dragon runs through these veins. But that circumstance only calls for more discipline on my part.

Robin: The knowledge of my nature only makes me more determined to never betray my allies' trust.

Here we have both in the same speech! Here, whether he succumbs to Grima is entirely put on Robin and Robin's determination. As well, he says that it's "his nature." Like yeah, this could mean "his nature as Grima's vessel", but that would be a weird use of the word nature (in the meaning of personality and disposition).

Like, again, the focus is on Grima as a result of Robin's emotional state. The two are directly tied and correlating.

To end of, shrortly beforr the Grimas leave, Robin says to them

"Maybe you can escape the Fell Dragon's fangs and walk your own path one day."

Like yeah the literal meaning is again "maybe the robins can be saved from grima" but it can also be taken in a metaphorical sense of "maybe the robins can free themselves from the role of grima."

i'm just generally befuddled. i do like the thematic thread of "robin will never become grima if he keeps hope." but the possession stuff is so entirely literal. but then why - god i already said this.

Grima loving hours incoming! Feel free to skip i just love them.

The one upside for this, for my terminal Grima brainrot - Grima's motivations in this are so tasty to chew on. I mentioned before, the Grimas approach Robin with the intent of making him despair in the face of his inevitable destiny. But Robin doesn't, refutes them - he says that if he changed, so could they.

This is fascinating, cuz I think brave Robin terrifies them for this exact reason. He's just oblivious, he's the one who'll change, just see - yet he doesn't. He is the living proof destiny can change. Here we see again, Grima as hopelessness. They need destiny to be inevitable. Because then it's not a choice to be hopeless anymore. Things couldn't have gone better. What if Robin's bonds weren't meaningless trifles, though? It's a challenge to everything the Grimas had to accept.

But look around. This is Askr. People meet other versions of themselves by the dozen - with different fates and circumstances.

Grimas' reason to speak to Robin really just seems scared of change. The final take away from the S support for Robin is that maybe they can change too, after all. Grima is terrified of change! Of hope! Of becoming Robin again! Because then what was it all for? Why did they have to suffer so much? Isn't it unfair? Isn't the thought that you could've gotten luckier unbearable? Grima is my sopping wet meow meow, if you couldn't tell.

Grima fan hours over, back to complaining.

another layer of confusion for the setting of this is is... when is this robin from, exactly?

so brave robin is said to be the tactician of the "newly crowned" exalt, matching legendary chrom's time period. This gives us precisely two options, each with their own issues:

This Robin is from the two year timeskip after chapter 12, where Chrom assumes the throne after Emmeryn's death.

This Robin is from a post canon ending wherein Chrom becomes exalt for realsies (likely only viable for a Chrom ending).

The issue with the first one is: Robin wouldn't know that he's fellblood at this point? He starts suspecting it in chapter 13, obviously because the grimleal hierophant has his exact name and face, as well as Validar's attempt at telepathy. He'd have to be from after the timeskip if that is the case.

Of course, he could be hearing this for the first time from the Grimas. In that case, his reaction is extraordinarily mild. And his first words to them are "Could you be what becomes of me under the fell dragon's influence?" If he's hearing this for the first time, what a wild conclusion that is to make. Again, he'd have no clue he's fellblood, that this is even a scenario that could happen at all.

The issue with the second option is that Robin... would have nothing to be afraid of? He would have already confronted the self that became Grima and defeated it. At which point this whole forging bonds becomes an entirely redundant character arc that really would just be inferior to the equivalent moment in Awakening itself. Robin cites himself as proof that the Grimas could change, indicating a post-canon mindset, but then, why do their words initially get to him so much?

I don't think he'd just be second act Robin either - Chrom would've already been Exalt for two years at that point, which makes the "newly-crowned" comment odd.

All around I'm.. mildy disappointed with this one. As stated just now, it's a redundant arc that doesn't show us anything new about Robin.

Looking at Soren's - that one really took advantage of the Heroes setting to display Soren's growth as a character. The interactions between him and Ranulf were great and funny, and the way he opens up to his younger self shows that Ike's kindness affected him.

Corrin also got great moments with Gullveig. It was amazing to see a post-revelations Corrin who succeeded in ending a war through communication, and how she carries it forward into solving conflicts now, no matter how dire, by extending compassion to the summoned Gullveig. I haven't finished her own storyline yet, but I already liked seeing her interact with Azura and Lilith.

By comparison, this is a scenario that literally already happens in the game itself. It elaborates more on Grima as a metaphor for hopelessness, yet muddles the logistics of it by not committing to either option to what Grima is in relation to Robin.

All around. Love Brave Robin! Great outfit! He's very cute! Another win for gay marriage! His forging bonds? Mehhhh.

Despite the ongoing discussion of "What timeline even IS this??", at least Depths of Despair gave us something new in a bad timeline chrobin dynamic. this is heroes goddammit. get crazy with it.

i would literally kill for robin-idunn interaction you would not believe. could you imagine brave robin and spring idunn interacting,,,, i am crying just thinking about it.

FEH has done a great deal to really uplift Grima as a character and add more depth to what the game gave us, both in backstory crumbs and the motivation department, so seeing them fumble the bag here is just disappointing. Can they get their own lore together already?

[sehrgefaelltmir]

hey bestie

statement: i love you

question: what was your Mullendowski Awakening 🎤 (did i already ask you this?? man i hope not)

aw skdjskjdd ily too broski!!! <333

ooohhhh boy OHHHHH BOY STRAP IN YALL THIS IS GONNA BE AN ESSAY IM SORRY IN ADVANCE 😭😭 i could actually talk about these mfs until the end of days. i’ll stop yapping about müllendowski when im dead

ANYWAY there are 2 moments i can think of that like. converted me. like i was always a casual bayern enjoyer (cause 6 year old me saw an automatic tap for the first time in munich airport n then i saw the allianz arena out the window on the motorway and i decided munich was the coolest place ever and bayern was My Team 😭) but i didnt have the Müllendowski Awakening until a few years ago n there were 2 reasons

the first is really fucking dumb tbh 😭 but yk that one clip where thomas calls lewy lewangoalski and no one laughs,, idk why but it’s just so???? like no one was even asking abt lewy, i think someone asked him if he would rather play with messi or ronaldo?? and he was like yea but i dont need them bc we in bayern we have robert lewangoalski 🥰 IDK THERES JUST SMTH REALLY SWEET ABOUT IT OK IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT 😭😭😭 like i remember watching it n thinking aww he just wants to talk abt lewy

and then the other thing that made me decide they r a married couple is the time that lewy didnt win the ballon dor n then thomas posted something like ‘you’re my number one’ or smth?? like i was screaming crying throwing up over that and i still am that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to anyone ever

fun fact: the first time i ever wrote anything abt them was like. just a few paragraphs in my notes app where lewy is really sad abt not winning the ballon dor? and thomas is trying to comfort him but hes doing it really awkwardly?? and hes tryna convince lewy that actually hes the one who should be more sad about it cause he bet on lewy winning n now he’s lost a load of money??? or something??? 😭 it was definitely really bad but i thought i ate at the time sksjsjjdsjjs

oh my god i wrote a dissertation wtf 💀 i need to go to sleep ANYWAY THATS MY ORIGIN STORY TY FOR LETTING ME INFODUMP ABT MÜLLENDOWSKI <333

[wheresmynaya]

Blame it on the Mistletoe Ch.5 | Brittana

A/N - Apologies for the delay, it's been a busy week for me! I'm a tad behind so thanks for your sticking around. Hope you all have a lovely holiday celebrating it in the best way that brings you joy! I found title inspo from the song Blame it on the Mistletoe so make sure you blast it at some point!

If you're feeling generous and would like to show your appreciation a little differently this week, consider sending a coffee my way through Ko-Fi: wheresmynaya.

Thanks yall! 

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

Four long days have gone by since Santana last saw Brittany at the Understudy. It's not that she's actively avoiding her – okay maybe she is. What she did with the waffles that night was meant to be a big fuck you but really, it awakened something entirely different. It reminded her of little tricks they would play on each other, tricks that would lead to stolen kisses in the walk-in or quickies in the backseat of Brittany's car. It's exactly why she needs to keep her distance. For them, there's a very fine line between doing petty things to irk the other person and flirting.

The whole reasons Santana and Brittany even started talking was because Brittany would secretly move all of Santana's prep to the top shelf where she knew Santana couldn't reach. It was supposed to be her way of getting Santana to ask her for help because she had this crush. It went on for weeks, Santana would get so pissed about it – threatening every other line chef except Brittany since she was too innocent to do such a thing. Brittany thought it was hilarious until she caught Santana scaling the wire shelving trying to get things down herself. She nearly plummeted to her death from the two-foot drop if it wasn't for Brittany being in the right place at the right time.

From then on, they did little things to get back at each other – nothing ever too serious because it was all about the teasing. It became their love language and Santana knows from personal experience how easy it is to fall into that pattern with her again.

Scary thing is that she is starting to want to.

For good measure, Santana avoids Market Days since they seem to be a hotspot for them and instead sends Quinn in her place. Miss Maggie isn't happy about it, but she still sends Quinn back to the restaurant with a little treat in hopes it'll entice Santana to venture out.

It's tempting, but Santana stays put. She can't go jumping into things just because she misses being with Brittany. For all she knows, it might be the holidays playing with her head. If only there was some sign that could point her in the right direction!

"Hey Santana," Rachel greets as she enters the kitchen. "There's a VIP out here wanting to see you."

Santana grumbles to herself; this isn't the kind of sign she was talking about.

"Stop calling Brittany a VIP."

"She's not – "

"Rachel, I don't want to see her." Santana turns her back on Rachel in favor of continuing her last few checks before service starts. She'd be lying if she said her heart didn't race a little knowing Brittany was out there though.

"I'll let her know then," Rachel says before heading back out to the front of house. The peace lasts for less than a minute before Rachel returns. "Sorry Santana, she's insisting."

"So am I!" Santana snaps as she whirls around. "Service starts in twenty minutes and we have actual VIPs booked in tonight. One of them could be a reviewer so I don't have time for this!"

Rachel lifts her hands in defense and backs away slowly. "Okay, I'll let her know."

"Thank you." Santana returns to the Pass and continues her work in silence. She can feel her crew's eyes on her but she ignores it so she can focus.

"Hey, you can't go back there!" It's Rachel's voice followed by the sound of the doors being slammed open again.

Santana looks up worriedly only to find Chef Holly Holliday is the one busting through the doors with Rachel close behind.

"This how you treat your beloved mentor?" Holly asks through a smirk. "Where's my welcome wagon?"

"Shit. Sorry, Chef." Santana scrambles to meet Holly halfway.

"See?" Rachel argues. "I told you it wasn't Brittany."

"You did not say that," Santana counters. "You said it was a VIP."

"Am I not?" Holly asks.

"You are, we're just on high alert right now," Santana explains.

"I will return to the host stand then," Rachel grumbles. "Lovely to meet you, Chef Holliday."

Santana lets out a deep sigh, feeling only somewhat more relaxed now that she realizes the VIP was actually Holly.

"Damn, busy night? Why are you so tense?" Holly asks as she goes in for a hug. "You love pressure cookers like this."

"I do, normally. There's a lot of buzz around the new menu but it seems like everyone is trying to throw me off my game," Santana explains. "It's hard to stay focused when personal life keeps finding its way in."

"You mean Brittany?" Holly asks. "You two still haven't squashed things yet?"

"It's complicated."

"You guys didn't seem to have any trouble uncomplicating it at the awards ceremony," Holly jokes. "Being around you two like that, it was like no time had passed at all!"

Santana remembers the night well, how she and Brittany easily reconnected…in more ways than one. She remembers thinking how easy it was to pick up from where they left off, how for a brief moment she could forgive her for leaving and maybe they could move past it.

But then the news about the restaurant broke and the happy bubble burst and she's been struggling to adjust since then. Meanwhile, Brittany can just offer jobs and give all the right kind of feedback on her menu without any remorse? Not a chance, no matter how charming she can be!

"What brings you all the way out here?" Santana asks, avoiding the topic of Brittany.

"Just making my rounds before the New Year. Pop-Up's is slammed with catering events but I was in the area. I thought I'd check on my girls while I'm here," Holly answers. "Although, I thought you two would've been back together already so I could make this trip a two for one."

"Well, we are definitely not together."

"Why the hell not?"

"Like I said, it's complicated."

"Is this about the restaurant?"

"I don't know, maybe?" Santana pulls Holly aside, moving further away from the line chefs so they don't overhear. "Do we really need to talk about this now?"

"Uh yeah, we do," Holly replies like it's obvious. "How are you still mad about that, I thought you'd be happy for her?"

"You clearly don't know me very well," Santana quips.

"Come on, you know she would've told you about it sooner if she could."

"So why didn't she?"

Holly tilts her head to the side, looking confused.

"We told each other everything. She wasn't just my girlfriend; she was my best friend. How could she keep so much from me?" Santana takes a settling breath to calm herself down. "I'm not sure I even know how to move past this, what she did hurt."

"Oh I know it did, honeybun. And I mean, if you have already talked things out and heard Brittany's side of the story then there's not much else you can do," Holly explains. "Time will have to fix the rest, I guess?"

Santana looks around guiltily.

Holly picks up on it instantly. "What?"

"We haven't actually talked. I mean, we have – just not in depth."

"Seriously?" Holly quirks a brow. "So you don't know anything about her job or her psychotic boss?"

Santana gulps. "No?"

"Girl…you two need to talk! Actually no, you need to let her talk. It's no wonder you're still holding a grudge!"

"I don't hold grudges," Santana grumbles. "I don't know why people keep saying that."

"Because you do," Holly laughs. "God, this makes so much sense now! I didn't think you would actually write Britt off for what she had to do."

"What did she have to do?"

"That is not my story to tell," Holly replies. "Look, I won't keep you because I'm getting hungry and you need to get back to work but listen up – make some time for her."

Santana scoffs. "Yeah, I don't think we're even on speaking terms right now."

"Just try," Holly tells her. "Resist the urge to be a stubborn pain in the ass that you love being. Now I'm gonna love you and leave you." Holly steps forward to give Santana one last hug. "Knock'em dead tonight, Sweet Cheeks."

Santana spends the rest of service thinking about what Holly said. It's the first she has heard of a psychotic boss so her interest is piqued. What she seems to be having trouble with is finding the time to talk to Brittany.

Or rather, making the time to do it – her pride involved afterall so she isn't really rushing to reach out and find out she has misunderstood this whole thing. She already feels like an ass for how things went down the other night.

\\

Two days later, Santana is going through the deliveries ensuring everything that was ordered actually turned up. It's a small load today so it takes her no time at all to process everything. With the extra free time, she decides to get a jump on breaking down the lobsters for tonight.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Chef." Santana looks up to find the kitchen gardener, Joe, lingering at the back exit of the kitchen. "There's a strange woman out here rooting through the garden."

"Okay? Why are you telling me this? Get rid of her."

"I tried."

"Try harder?"

"I can't. She said she's looking for someone you've kidnapped."

"Kidnapped? What the hell?"

"I don't know," Joe looks around worriedly. "Do you think I should call the sheriff?"

"Please, Snixx will handle this," She says as she puts down her knife and pulls off her apron.

"Snixx?"

"Don't worry about it." Santana brushes him off. "Where's she at?"

Joe leads the way outside while Santana stomps the whole way behind him. She expected this type of interruption in the city because there are all walks of life out there, but here? This is the country. Everyone knows everyone and the little shit-head kids don't have the balls to mess with her so what the hell is going on?

"She's in there." Joe points to his shed.

Santana can hear the rummaging around and for a split second, she wonders if she should've brought some type of weapon to defend herself with. Snixx is prone to verbal takedowns, not so much the physical. But she's not backing down, so she looks around and grabs a nearby rake to wield instead.

"Okay, I'm going in," Santana says aloud.

"You want back up?"

"You couldn't even handle her on your own. You should probably sit this one out."

"Good call. I'll have my phone ready."

"Wonderful." Santana takes a deep breath and tightens her grip on the rake. She knocks the tip of the handle against the shed. "Yo! You've got five seconds to come out before I go all Lima Heights on your sorry – "

The door whips open and Santana's standing so close, she nearly gets hit with it. Thankfully, her awesome reflexes kick in and she's able to dodge the door.

"Have you lost your goddamn mind, lady?"

"What have you done with him?" Brittany accuses.

"Britt?" Santana's face screws up with confusion. "What are you doing in our shed?"

"You know why I'm here!" Brittany snaps. It's the angriest Santana has ever seen her. "I know I'm on your shit list right now, but you didn't have to take it out on PB."

"PB?" Santana sets down the rake. "I'm so lost right now…who or what is PB?"

"My pig!" Brittany explains. "You kidnapped my pig."

"Now why the hell would I want to do that?" Santana laughs but Brittany only glares back. "No seriously, why would I want your pig?"

"Because you do petty things when you're pissed," Brittany says. "You could've at least had the decency to send a ransom letter or something."

"Believe me, Britt. I didn't take your pig," Santana replies. "That is way too much work. Where would I even hide a pig here?"

"Spoken like a true thief," Brittany quips before returning to her search. "I've already found a clue so save your alibi for the judge."

Santana's flabbergasted.

Meanwhile, Joe trails behind Brittany, fixing up all the pots and bags of soil she has upturned on her hunt for said clues. Santana's at a loss as she watches Brittany continue her hunt. It's like watching a car accident, she can't look away.

"Okay Britt, stop." Santana finally says when she starts heading for the firewood shed. At first Brittany brushes her off and keeps walking but Santana tugs on her jacket to get her to stop.

"Why on Earth would I still a pig?" Santana asks. "Is he meant to be a special on your menu or something?"

"No way! PB isn't just a pig, he's a friend," Brittany explains. "He came with the restaurant so he's like our mascot. He's also a great listener."

"I see." Santana sees that fearful look in her eye, she's actually pretty hurt about this.

"I'm supposed to take care of him," Brittany tells her. "Now he's gone and everyone's really worried."

"I can tell." Santana nods over to a couple tree stumps and gestures for Brittany to sit. "I honestly have nothing to do with the disappearance of your pig."

Brittany watches her for a moment before relaxing. "I believe you."

"Okay good because I cannot have you spreading rumors that I've kidnapped someone. People might think I've gone all Sweeny Todd."

"True. Although that would be pretty on brand for the Understudy," Brittany says through a tiny smile. It doesn't stay for long though. "I have to find him, San."

"Look I'm sure he's just taking a leisurely stroll through the countryside," Santana says optimistically. It seems so out of character for her to be the one to planting a seed of hope, that's usually Brittany's job, but she can tell she needs it. "Pigs roam, right? And we work in a beautiful area so it makes sense for him to do a little sight-seeing. Or maybe he's visiting his extended pig family, it is the holidays after all."

"Or he's been murdered."

Santana's jaw drops at Brittany's deadpan. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

Brittany hangs her head low. "Anything could've happened."

"That's right," Santana agrees. "But that doesn't necessarily mean the worst thing did."

Brittany only shrugs. "I guess. This is all my fault. I was the last one to see him…alive. I must've forgotten to lock the gate on my way out."

The way she looks so distraught and helpless, Santana would give anything to make it better – she's just not sure what that is. Well, she knows but kissing the worries away probably wouldn't go down so well considering she was just the number one suspect ten minutes ago.

But damn, does she want to give it a try anyway.

"I have to get back to work but I'll keep a lookout for PB," Santana tells her as she stands. She holds her hand out, waiting for a sulking Brittany to take it. "Come on, I'll walk you back."

The short walk back is spent in silence, but Santana can tell the gears in Brittany's head are working overtime. Who would've known she could be so stressed over a lost pig? She thinks about what Holly said too and wonders if this is the universe's sick way of forcing her and Brittany together. The last thing on Brittany's mind would be taping together the scraps of their relationship though.

"Let me know if you hear anything," Brittany says as they get to her car. "PB loves his veggies so keep an eye on your compost pile."

"I will," Santana says. "And you, don't go lurking in the Joe's shed anymore. I almost hit you over the head with a rake."

"I won't. I'm sorry for scaring him. I'm also sorry for accusing you."

"That's okay," Santana shrugs. "Things between us have been weird so I get why you'd think it was me. I wasn't very nice to you the last time you were here."

"I've seen you not play nice, that wasn't it."

"Oh, have I lost my touch?"

Brittany chuckles. "Maybe?"

"So you're saying should've gone with my gut and made you an eggs royale?"

"I was a little disappointed I didn't get to try your galette, but the waffles were very tasty – even if I despise them. I know you're capable of being way worse, so I'll take it." Brittany jokes. "But if you are looking to redeem yourself, I know a great place where you can."

Santana suddenly feels warm all over. This right here, this is why she needs to keep her distance! She feigns annoyance although she's sure a smile gives her away. "Don't say your restaurant."

"I wasn't going to but glad to know you're thinking of it still!"

\\

Later that night, Santana ventures outside toting a bucket of veggie scraps. The chatter from the kitchen can be heard as the door hangs open in the breeze. There's enough light to illuminate a path and she peers around to make sure no ones watching before she sets the scrap bucket up on the tree stump she and Brittany sat on earlier.

"PB!" She calls out. "I have some of your favorites, I think? PB!"

She listens for any rustling or the telltale signs of a pig nearing, but nothing. She can't believe she's actually doing this as she calls out to him again. Even in the midst of their feuding and awkwardness, Santana's still wrapped around Brittany's finger.

\\

Santana arrives to work later than usual a few days later in preparation for the weekly meeting she has with Kurt and Rachel. They talk about important stuff like sales and revenue and making sure Santana stays within her budget. It's draining but necessary; that doesn't keep Santana from dragging her feet to attend.

However, this time Rachel opens up the meeting with exciting news. She tells Santana that the Understudy will be hosting a huge Christmas event this year unlike any other and it's likely that it'll be a sellout thanks to the latest menu! Apparently they've teamed up with an awesome marketing team who are on top of their game and they're already receiving so many requests for a booking! It's great news for the business, even more so for Santana. Lately she's been feeling off, distracted by this pig thing and Brittany – it'll be nice to refocus her attention on her work.

"I can't wait to start the planning," Rachel beams. "I have so many ideas already!"

"Hang on, I thought we said we'll work on that together?" Kurt asks.

"Shouldn't someone who actually celebrates Christmas be in charge?" Santana chimes in.

"I'll have you both know that although I don't celebrate Christmas, I am excellent at throwing parties with a theme," Rachel explains.

"Who told you that and were they on your payroll?"

"Many people have said that to me, Santana and no they were not on my payroll. Also, while we're on the topic of holiday parties – you haven't rsvp'd to our staff party." Rachel passes Santana an ornate invitation, one she has thrown out several times because it keeps reappearing. "We really need to lock in numbers for the caterers."

"Oh sorry." Santana takes the paper and scribbles over the NO box then passes it back. "There you go."

"Santana, you've checked the wrong box."

"Pretty sure I didn't."

"What?" Kurt cries out when he spots the NO. "You have to come!"

"I need to stay focused, especially now that we have this Christmas event. We haven't even talked about the menu or seating times or what the number of bookings will be. There's a lot left to prepare."

"One party won't kill you," Kurt reasons.

"If Rachel's hosting, you never know. Remember how she tried poisoning me last time?"

"She did not," Kurt insists.

"That's right. You ate a bad oyster."

"Given to me by who?" Santana glares before pointing her finger at Rachel. "You."

"I swore it was a reputable supplier, I'm sorry!"

"You might as well get them from a grocery store," Santana complains. "I'm sure it'll be a fun night for everyone else though. I'm perfectly fine sitting this one out."

"You can't be alone on Christmas though," Kurt reasons. "That's just sad."

He has a point; outside of work, there's no one. It used to be Brittany before things went bad. She realizes this'll be the first Christmas they won't spend together and the thought actually pains her.

Santana always loved the holidays, especially Christmas. Not because of the presents or the shopping deals, she loved how the family always came together. She loved the special dishes her abuela would cook and how it felt catching up with her cousins. She loved the sense of belonging; she loved the warmth.

But living so far away from her actual family and being too busy with work to visit meant that Santana had to miss out on a lot. Thankfully, her family understands the nature of her job but still that melancholy feeling never truly goes away.

It wasn't until she and Brittany became a thing that the feeling began to return.

Despite the busy schedules and exhaustion, Brittany always found a way to sprinkle in the holiday magic. That was love, pure love. It may not be the same as being surrounded by a big family, but it didn't matter. Being surrounded by Brittany was enough.

When Santana thinks about it now, there's no reason they can't have that again. The only one standing in their way is her.

\\

On the third night of PB's disappearance, Quinn goes out for a smoke break and catches Santana in the middle of an attempt at pig-calling. Quinn nearly wets herself with laughter meanwhile Santana is pulling out every excuse in the book to explain what she's doing.

Ultimately, she really can't talk her way out of it and ends up telling Quinn about Brittany and how distraught she is over this pig.

"Okay, so you're back together?" Quinn asks.

"No, we're not back together. I'm just helping a friend."

"Friend? I thought she was your competitor?"

"Por qué no los dos? I don't know!"

Quinn smirks at Santana's obvious floundering as she takes a drag of her cigarette. "You must care a lot about her if you're out here in the middle of the night, cold, missing family meal."

Santana only crosses her arms. "Are you going to help me or just stand there and judge?"

"I'm perfectly fine here, Chef. Thank you."

"Come on, you're already here. You might as well do something useful," Santana complains. "You grew up on a farm. What am I doing wrong?"

"It was a lemon orchard," Quinn corrects. "We didn't have pigs so I have no idea. Pretty sure the oinking you were doing before isn't it though."

"I was not oinking."

"Sounded like it. I have a recording if you want to see?" Quinn starts to take out her phone.

"No you don't," Santana scrambles to see. "Delete it right now!"

Turns out Quinn's full of shit when Santana finds there isn't actually a video of her calling out to PB.

"Should've seen your face!" Quinn laughs. "Priceless."

"You suck so bad, Quinn Fabray."

\\

Despite Santana solely spearheading the search party, Rachel is the one who actually finds PB early the following morning. Santana's barely awake to register the news although Rachel's practically screaming down the line at her to come help.

"I cannot have this, Santana! Our work Christmas party is tonight and I cannot have a pig in attendance! That's just absurd and unhygienic! You need to come help us get rid of it right now!"

In any other circumstance, what the hell was Santana going to do about a pig running amuck in the kitchen garden and why was the first person Rachel thought to call her?

When she arrives onsite, Rachel and Kurt stand with Joe on the outskirts of the garden watching who she assumes is PB rolling around in veg scraps. Rachel and Kurt look like they're seconds away from pulling their hair out while Joe looks around confused.

"Has anyone called Brittany?" Santana asks as she joins the group.

"Why would we call Brittany?" Rachel asks. "This is a pig."

"I don't know, you called me and it's not like I'm a pig wrangler," Santana mutters. "I think he belongs to her though."

"How were we supposed to know that?" Kurt asks. "It's not like he's wearing a collar."

"Actually, I think he is." Joe points to the pig's neck and sure enough, there is one.

"I can't believe I got out of bed for this," Santana groans. "None of you could've spotted that before waking me?"

"Sorry Santana," Rachel says.

"You should be. Now one of you can call Brittany and tell her to come get her pet so I can go back to bed."

"Aren't you two friends?" Kurt asks. "Why don't you call her?"

"No way, we're – " Santana is quick to shut him down but finds herself pausing.

She's nowhere near ready to face the day yet, let alone Brittany. But on the other hand…She's spent nearly a week secretly looking for this pig and now that she's found him, it would make sense for her to finish the job and reunite him with his owner.

So what if her hair is a little messier than normal and what if her ratty old sleep shirt and shorts are the only things she's wearing under her heavy coat? It's not like she cares about how she looks if she's going to see Brittany, then again it's not like she hasn't seen her like this before?

"Fuck it." Santana suddenly makes up her mind. "I'll do it."

\\

While Joe and company coaxed PB onto his trailer and have it hitched up to the work truck, Santana goes to her office to pick up a couple things where she then paced the room wondering why the hell she offered to see Brittany alone.

Once upon a time, the thought of being alone with Brittany was the only thing that got her through a long shift. Now, she's riddled with nerves – the good kind or the bad, she's not sure. She spends the next ten minutes convincing herself that it's neither – this is purely a business transaction.

It's a short drive to Brittany's restaurant but it takes her twice as long with PB in the back. She's actually never been to the restaurant, she's only familiar with the raggedy old barn that used to be there, but as she pulls into the driveway, she's pleasantly surprised by what she sees.

What she can only assume is the raggedy old barn has been completely transformed! There's still the rustic charm associated with being out in the country, the weathered wood and brick, but new iron accents elevate it into something more contemporary. From the outside, the place looks amazing!

"Santana?" Brittany calls out as she comes around the side of the building. She's wearing that familiar beanie again and the tips of her nose and cheeks are rosy from the chill. "What are you – oh my God, you found PB!"

She sprints over to the trailer and as Santana comes around. "He was rooting through our veg scraps. He scared the shit out of Rachel and Kurt."

"I told you he loves his vegetables!" Brittany replies as she gives the pig a loving pat on the side. When she looks at Santana, there's so much adoration in her eyes that it makes Santana want to start pacing again. "Thanks for bringing him home, Santana. I've been so worried."

"Yeah well, you should be thankful he was close by," Santana replies dismissively although the butterflies in her stomach flutter about. "Babe could've easily been roasting on an open fire by now."

Brittany gasps and does her best to cover PB's ears. "He can hear you!"

"Good! Maybe that'll scare him straight and he won't go wandering around anymore," Santana replies. "Seems like he's got a pretty good life here. Maybe he shouldn't fuck it up just because he feels like traveling."

Brittany side-eyes PB, ultimately agreeing with Santana. "I guess she's right. It's your lucky day, sir."

When PB bows his head, Santana starts to wonder if he really can understand what they're saying. Maybe it was just coincidence?

"Could you unlock the gate?" Brittany asks. "I'll get him back to his pen."

Santana nods and goes around to the tailgate. She can feel Brittany's eyes on her and that has her fumbling to get the latch undone. She blames her trembling hands on the cold though. Brittany goes off to unload PB from the trailer.

Thankfully Santana has to do minimal work. She's still only running on a few hours of sleep, no caffeine, and she was rudely awakened by Rachel of all people. It hasn't been a great start to her morning. Seeing Brittany so overcome with happiness because she's finally reunited with her piggy friend and Santana being the reason for that reunion might just make up for all that.

"What's PB stand for anyway?" Santana wonders. "Peanut Butter?"

"What's peanut butter have to do with a pig?" Brittany laughs as if she didn't once tell Santana she used to have a cat named Lord Tubbington when she was a kid.

"I don't know? That's the first thing that came to mind," Santana explains.

"It stands for Pork Butt," Brittany answers.

"Oh wow…"

Brittany only giggles as she guides PB around the building. After Brittany secures PB in his pen, she joins Santana over by the entry of the restaurant. Santana's staring up the at the sign – she hadn't known the name of Brittany's restaurant before today; she didn't want to purely out of stubbornness or spite. But now, she stares at the letters that form the word she and Brittany used to toss around together when they dreamed of opening their own place.

To see it now, come to life, and looking the way it does…Santana isn't sure how to feel and there's no time to dwell on it as Brittany returns.

"PB is safe and sound," Brittany says. "The only way he's getting out of there is if he learns to fly."

"Great. I'll head off then."

"Wait, don't you want to come in?" Brittany asks. The hope is unmissable, the same could be said about her sudden bashfulness. "This is your first time here, it's not how I planned it but you're here and I'd love to show you around."

Santana looks up at the wooden doors and it's oddly inviting – like she's being drawn in or tempted, probably tempted. Brittany's there batting her eyelashes, hope brimming. She can't deny that she's curious about the interior, wondering if it's just as aesthetic as the outside.

What color scheme did she go with? What type of tables and chairs? Is it an open concept? Does it look anything like what they used to daydream about together?

"You're calling it The Stix," Santana mentions.

"I thought it was fitting," Brittany replies. "We always talked about opening up a place off the beaten path, in the sticks. We wanted fine dining but make it feel like customers are at home for Sunday dinner. We wanted warmth and good food and we wanted to do it somewhere that deserves more recognition – like here."

Santana takes a deep breath. "But you named it The Stix. That was our name that we picked together. You did this without me."

"You were all I thought about when I did this," Brittany explains.

"And yet, you never thought to call me?"

"I couldn't!"

"You keep saying that…"

"Because it's true," Brittany explains. "Everything happened so quickly once I came back; I didn't have time to catch you up, all I could do was act fast or I'd miss the opportunity. I figured if you saw the name then you'd be just excited as me about this and you'd let me explain."

"I wouldn't really call this excitement, Britt." Santana frowns. "Look at this place, I would've loved doing this with you if you had given me the chance but you didn't. You told me about it once it was already done."

"It's still a work in progress."

"One that you're working on alone."

"I was bound by contract, Santana. I had to do everything alone!"

"Contract?" Santana drops further into confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, so now you want me to explain? After all this time?" Brittany shakes her head and laughs angrily. "You're unbelievable."

"Hang on, I'm not the one that's been keeping secrets," Santana counters. "You made this mess. I'm just trying to make sense of it."

"Yes, I know. I'm the one that ruined everything, it's all my fault," Brittany says. It looks as though she's on the brink of tears but they never fall. "You know I could've answered all your questions if you would just let me? I have been trying to make it right ever since that night at the awards ceremony. I have been trying to explain. I have been trying tell you these secrets. I have been trying to fix things but you keep shutting me down. It's like you don't even want this anymore."

"I do want this," Santana says without thinking. "More than anything."

"Then what are we doing?" Brittany asks tiredly. "I understand making me sleep in the doghouse because I know I put you through hell while I was gone. What happens next or is this it? I'm a patient person, but you've got to tell me now if I'm wasting my time because I love you, San. I love you but pushing me away like this…you're just as much to blame now."

Santana only stands there, feeling as though she's just been stung. "I don't know. I'm figuring it out."

"Can't we do that together?" Brittany asks, hope brimming in her pretty blue eyes. One look at her and Santana feels like she could conquer anything – even her own insecurities. "Don't you think we're stronger together?"

"I know we are," Santana says truthfully. She hasn't felt this sure of herself in a long time, especially not when it comes to Brittany.

"So what do you want to do?"

"I want – " Santana's interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. It's Rachel again so she's quick to ignore it but she catches a glimpse of several unread texts from Quinn that can't be as easily ignored. "Oh shit. I'm sorry, I need to go."

"Is everything okay?" Brittany asks as Santana hurries to the truck.

Santana's speed-reading through the missed texts but only finds Quinn uncharacteristically panicked which makes her feel even more uneasy. She spins around to apologize one more time for cutting this short only to find Brittany right on her heels, so close that they collide.

"Shit, sorry," Santana rushes out but Brittany's hand keep her from falling.

"Are you okay to drive?" Brittany asks as she steadies Santana, eyes searching hers for a sign. "Do you want me to come with?"

"No, no. I'm good," Santana assures her.

Brittany looks at her like she's waiting for more. Despite everything, Brittany still cares for her as if nothing has changed. She's still putting her first and that just about puts Santana over the edge.

"Are you sure?" Brittany looks at her warily. "I mean, you look good in your pj's and cute bed-head but you don't look good good."

Who knew a simple sentence could put Santana at ease? Apparently, Brittany because she always knows the right thing to say when it counts.

"I'm sure. For all I know, it's something ridiculous like Kurt has a hangnail or Rachel's annoying Quinn," Santana tells her. She gives into temptation and reaches out to touch Brittany's cheek. It's welcomed warmth against her icy fingertips, she can't help but linger there. "I'm sorry for leaving."

"Hey, that's my line." Brittany's smile is kind as she leans into Santana's palm. "I understand. Duty calls."

Santana pulls away and goes to get settled in the driver's seat. She pauses just after she starts the engine and looks back at Brittany. She knows she should leave but finds herself unwinding the window. Brittany draws closer.

"Changing your mind?"

"It's not that. Rachel and Kurt are putting on this thing tonight at the Understudy," Santana explains. Suddenly she's riddled with nerves but they don't keep her from holding out the olive branch. "I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

"What kind of thing?" Brittany asks through a grin. "Is it a party?"

"Something like that," Santana replies. "There's decorations and food, probably music."

"Sounds very much like a party," Brittany jokes. "Will you be dressing up?"

"I might be," Santana shrugs. "Depends what time the lunch service wraps up. We're all supposed to have an early finish."

"Okay," Brittany finally answers. "Well, I'm supposed to be working the Pass tonight. I gave one of the chefs asked for the night off, her son's first Christmas. I couldn't be a Grinch and say no, not on Christmas Eve."

"Oh," Santana frowns at the sound of her olive branch snapping in two. She hadn't realized Christmas Eve had crept up on her so fast. "That's cool. Don't worry about it."

"I didn't say it was a no." Brittany smirks as Santana backtracks. "It's a maybe."

Santana sits a little taller; she can live with that. "So maybe I'll see you tonight then."

"Maybe you will," Brittany replies. "But if not Merry Christmas, Santana."

"Merry Christmas, Britt."

[anotherghoul666]

I was going to say I need you to stop showing me new things, but then I realised that wouldn't be as fun so instead, we thank you and continue stalking your blog for more awakenings.

I would never stop anyway, if you want a break from the sexual awakenings you're gonna have to jump ship XD Until then I'll keep feeding yall with some delicious possibilities and new kinks to ponder. Your confused arousal at some new, never considered before kinks is all the pay I need ❤️

[eightmakesonebraincell]

BRO just out of curiosity i copy pasted this into docs to find the wc aND THIS REBLOG IS 2699 WORDS LIKE ??????? THE DEDICATION?????? DEAD

also i know i've already said this but this reblog is literally what makes writing fics worth it no matter the amount of notes. like this is going to live in my head and heart rent free for the rest of my life even after i retire from tumblr and i'm eighty and hobbling along with my crane.

and i've also already said this before too but thank you SO SO much for all your help with this oneshot. you always say that you hardly did anything but without you always offering to bounce ideas, always cooking with the angst suggestions, constantly giving me feedback and encouragement about the scenes you've read, surfers would not have come to life like it has. so thank you babes ilysm 🥹🫶

you're right though i really do think writing surfers was healing not just in the themes and interactions i was able to explore, but i LOVED writing it and it was so nice to come back to after a day of work. bro also when we're writing in our docs like i'm always in my zone and i hardly have time to keep track of how you're going apart from the occasional scroll down when you've written onto the next page bUT ISTG YOU'RE LITERALLY READING AS I WRITE ALL THE TIME HAHAHAHA i've definitely seen the changes in your writing and it makes me so giddy to see our styles becoming similar (and i love that even with us both using motifs and poetic language now our themes and ideas that we write about are still SO different :')) also STOP surfers and [redacted] being our golden hours i'm going to cry

HOHOHOH THE START OF THE MESS OF AN ESSAY OF LIVE REACTIONS WELCOME TO THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE WORD SMASH FEEDBACK STYLE BBYGORL

the continuing motif of summer taking the form of ___ always makes me so :')) because we start the fic off with that and we see the progression changes right through to the very end but look i owe it to YOU for giving me that idea to continue to motif so thank you babes <33

RAHHH YUNGI like you can honestly just tell i have such a soft spot for yungi and their dynamic is so wholesome and cute even though they're all in college like they're really all just goofy lil guys aND IKR SUNFLOWER MINGI AND MUM DOTING ON HIM TOO LIKE COME HERE BABY LET ME LOVE YOU 😭🫶 and what is a loren fic without at least one or two puns sprinkled in either from yun or jongho's mouth 🤷‍♀️

AHAHHA YES YOU BEING A SIMP FOR SURFER!HONGJOONG (degradation kink ?????? 👀) but their easy banter was definitely such a fun part to write because we can't just have all the boys being soft and nice to yn now can we pfffttt we gotta have the insults and middle fingers 😌☝️

YEAH BRO THE ESSENCE OF YOUTH AND SUMMER AND THE TROLLEY BUMPER CAR SCENE IS SO ICONIC AND WHERE THE TITLE WAS CHOSEN FROM AND IT'S DEFINITELY GIVING THE MOST YOUTH FEELGOOD COMING-OF-AGE VIBES (along with the campfire yelling into the ocean scene i think those two are my personal faves) AND I'M SO GLAD THAT IT WAS PORTRAYED VIVIDLY BECAUSE IT'S SUCH AN IMPORTANT CORE MEMORY TO THEIR FRIENDSHIP TOO

omg the timing of wondering where san is and then getting johnny's text was most definitely not intentional but now that you're pointing it out it's such a good coincidence 🤔 WOO AND HJ ARE MY SPIRIT ANIMALS HONESTLY JUST STICKING MY NOSE INTO ANY AND EVERYONE'S BUSINESS (except ik when to keep it private iykyk OHOHOHOHOH 🤭)

bro the san as the choreographer of the ocean yo this fic should be studied as part of the english curriculum or something HAHAHA BUT ALSO YES the montage of their summer routine with ot8 and them growing familiar with each other is so cute i can see why this is your fave section :'))

FR THAT GIRL NEEDS TO TAKE HER GRUBBY EYES OFF MY MAN SAN literally the only good thing she was useful for was awakening yn's emotions and realisations pffftt but then hongjoong goes and crushes her hopes and dreams like BROOO KISS HER YALL IN LOVEEEE WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGG but hey for the plot yknow 😮‍💨 (yeah idk whether to address as reader / you/ yn / her but we roll)

lmao i remember when you first suggested having an older character in the fic as the wise advice person for yn to go to and we were gonna go with someone like a cafe worker or sth bUT HANEUL WAS A GOOD CHARACTER TO USE INSTEAD i love her sm too she's like yn's big sister :')) AND RAHH YES THE SCREAMING AT THE SEA SCENE THAT WAS ONE OF THE FIRST VIVID ENVISIONS I HAD WHEN I FIRST STARTED WRITING THE FIC I JUST KNEW I HAD TO INCLUDE IT

the way johnny wasn't even meant to be this hate-able as a character but then the characterisation and plot happened so here we are. this is my formal apology to johnny suh for doing him dirty 🤗 but right??? like before the boys came he was actually a decent dude who made the effort to court yn properly sooooooo redeeming factor ??? OOF YES when yn decides to snuff out her feelings GOOD FORESHADOWING METHINKS VERY POETIC/10 (no leaders is way too much of a monster i'm not touching that tyvm AHAHAHHA but also you're doing so great with it you literally don't need me)

HIT YOU RIGHT IN THE KOKORO HEARTBREAK BEFORE THE HEARBREAK DEAD HAHAHAHA but yEAHHH WE CHEER THE ANGST IS REALLY STARTING TO ANGST NOW we got all the showdowns with the boys and bro ikr like johnny dude listen to san man you may be yn's bf but you won't be for long 🙄✋

STOP MINGI'S TUNNEL PLAYING RIGHT AS HE GETS sort of STOOD UP BY YN WHEN THEY'RE HAVING THEIR HEART TO HEART TALK talk about timing my dude how did you not just burst out crying i'm not your strongest soldier

i remember messaging you and being like i just came up with a killer line aND IT WAS THE YN NOT SAYING ILY BACK 😎 aND YEWWW HIS FIGHT WITH THE BOYS spontaneously added but defs added more realistic motives behind why the boys get so angry when you bring johnny along to the campfire hohoho

DUN DUN DUN THE SHOWDOWNS honestly i think we were both the most excited when the fic got up to this point and idk what it says about us that we live for the angst 🫢 YN AND HJ ARE ALREADY HARSH ENOUGH AS THEY ARE WITH THEIR BANTER SO IN A REAL ARGUMENT??? OOOFFFFFFF HURT IS HURTING and then tHE HUGE ARGUMENT WITH OT8 Y O I K E S reading in one go definitely heightens the angst and feels like ouch man and mingi??? double ouch man and then san walking out on you too?? triple ouch man

DON'T COUNT ON IT JAHKSFLSDKGSDG this was literally the one line of dialogue we KNEW we had to include before i even started writing istg you come up with the ANGSTIEST JUCIEST LINES I LOVE IT

honestly we all need a haneul in our lives to tell us how to properly communicate like real adults and also everybody say thank you jongho for being mature in this situation and making amends with yn aND THANK YOU HWA FOR BEING NOSY AND GETTING INFO OUT OF JONGHO SO THEY CAN HAVE THEIR CUTE LIL REUNION i'm glad we've started the process of healing your shattered heart :D

it was funny how the apology was one of the easiest parts to write LMAO but yes !! communication !! transparency !! honesty !! WE LOVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT WHERE THEY CAN APOLOGISE AND TALK ABOUT ALL OF THAT AND THEN BLESS YEO TRYING TO GIVE HIS FORM OF FORGIVENESS AND APOLOGY WITH THE SCARF 😭

brooo surfers was completely self indulgent so i could give the boys the hairstyles i wanted RAHH PLATINUM MINGI RAHHH ASH YUNHO RAHHH BOYS IN TANK TOPS RAHHHHHHHHHH TOPLESS BODIES RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RAHHHHHH RAHHHHHHH

starting to come full circle with san's apology triggered by their childhood nicknames like guys cmon we knew from the start none of these arguments would be able to end your life-long relationship yall too in love with each other :')) YEAHHH THE MOTIF APPEARING AGAIN SUMMER IS STILL CHOI SAN <3333

GOTTA START THE HJ APOLOGY WITH SOME CRACK CAUSE THEIR WHOLE RELATIONSHIP IS BUILT UPON THAT and defs him and san were the main leads in this argument and heartbreak they deserved the fully fleshed out apology scenes even if my wc was racking up LOL

round table conference is the best way to describe their poly talk and trust woo to be all like tHe ReAsoN i haVe gatHeRed yOu All hErE TOdAY AND YES TRUST HONGJOONG TO SET OFF THE CHAOS WHEN HE REALISES ONLY HE CONFESSED

omg honestly i'm so glad you left the last scene to be read with the entire fic after it was completed so you could be hit right in the kokoro fully and i'm happy it gave off all the good happy cosy feels as a way to wrap up the fic

bro I'M literally :')) rn like i have been all day since i first saw your reblog and ik i've said this 2039543698 times but this reblog means so so so much to me thank you so much babes. i really hope that this is the poly the summer the coming of age fic that you and others think of and come back to reread for a long long time because this has healed me so much and i want the same for everyone else <33

we definitely have more wonderful fics coming in the future we cooked so hard tonight and i'm so so excited to plan those with you and embark on the next journey with you <33 ilysm and thank you once again for all your support with surfers <333 mwah mwah :***

the essence of youth is summers with you

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

length: 38.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you sniffle, “call me when you arrive?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you know i can’t surf, san.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“which one do you think looks better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how did you start surfing?” you wonder.

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

“that’s really sweet of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how’s he going?”

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

“my hardest!” mingi yells across the field.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fuck, did i just get rejected?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“good thing i’d bark for you, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you smile, “i’ve missed you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you did it!” the boys respond excitedly.

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

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

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

“yes!” you shout back, “wait for me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sounds like you need a break.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

seonghwa nods, “woo as well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.

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

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

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

hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.

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

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

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

“since everyone’s picking truth…truth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just…straight up scream?” hongjoong frowns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you plaster on a smile, “it’s okay.”

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

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

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

sorry for putting you between your bf and i

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i also told them that i’m dati–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why did you call me so many times?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“wooyoung,” seonghwa starts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“johnny? you’re joking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“and why the fuck did you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you guys are leaving?” you ask apprehensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“they’re finally leaving, huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you slouch in on yourself, “we fought.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“come here,” she whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“go to seoul and talk to them.”

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

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

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

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

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

happy birthday jongho how have you been?

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

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

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

thanks y/n, i’ve been good

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

i miss you

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

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

can we call?

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

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

“hello?” comes jongho’s reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what about you? have you been busy?”

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

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

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

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

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

“he deserved it,” he gleefully states.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

and the reply is immediate.

anything you need

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m sorry, hwa” you murmur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“holy shit,” yunho whispers.

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

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

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

“i wasn’t talking to you–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what if it’s too late?” yunho asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“here,” yunho says, garnering your attention.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

san shakes his head, “you?”

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

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

“thanks, sannie.”

it doesn’t register in your head that the nickname has slipped out. for him, though, it echoes and ricochets in the very caverns of his ribcage. hesitantly, he mutters, “you’re welcome, pipsqueak.”

it tugs a smile out of your lips. “haven’t heard that in a while,” you muse. “kind of miss it.”

and i miss you. san is impatient, and he finally decides that he cannot take it anymore. “i’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers. “i know how badly i hurt you.”

the haze in your eyes immediately fades away at his words and he takes it as a good sign to continue. “i’ll be honest. i hated that the person next to you as your boyfriend wasn’t one of us–wasn’t me, because it didn’t look like he was making you happy at all. and that day you were out working in the field? some of us actually ran into johnny.”

you acknowledge sadly, “seonghwa told me what happened. i’m sorry he was like that.”

“that’s not on you to apologise,” san refutes. “i was the one who asked the boys to keep it from you until we could properly talk after the campfire night, but along with everything that had led up to that point, all my frustrations accumulated without even realising it.”

“i guess that makes the two of us, then. there were arguments you and i both weren’t aware of, and we ended up being the last straw for each other,” you chuckle wryly.

his voice wavers, “i’m meant to be the one person who is always there for you, but i made it feel like you were pitted against the eight of us instead and i’m so sorry for doing that. it should never have been me against you, nor us boys against you. it should have been all nine of us against the problem.”

you can’t help but take the opportunity to tease lightly, “are you calling my ex the problem?”

“exactly that,” he deadpans. “we all did.”

you nod, “thank you for trying to let me know, even when i didn’t listen.”

“no, i’m sorry we didn’t explain ourselves more clearly–or earlier.”

“but you have now, and i understand,” you reassure.

he nods gratefully before hesitating, “there’s something else behind all this that i can’t tell you yet, not without the others here. but when things are…okay with hongjoong again, that’s when we’ll tell you.”

something about his promise tells you that it has to do with the other part of the conversation everyone has been skirting around so far– your confession. faint memories of the interactions observed between the boys last summer and the brief exchange you overheard between yunho and mingi flicker across your mind.

perhaps you should steel yourself for rejection. you don’t dwell on it, though. this may have been the first time your friendship with san had been so close to shattering, but you know that it will take more than the entire universe to completely break you apart; you still trust him– because before it was the nine of you, it was you and san against the world.

“then are we okay now?” you ask, needing the confirmation.

“yeah,” he smiles breathlessly, “more than okay.”

the caverns of san’s dimples– the ones you love so much– shyly peek out to greet you in the faint glow of the moonlight coming in from the window. he reaches out silently and you understand immediately. you intertwine your fingers together.

san wants to ask you to go to bed with him. not to do anything sexual, but to simply hold you against his chest; trace the curve of your nose; wake up to your sleepy smile in the morning. but he can’t, not yet. not until you’ve worked things out with hongjoong, and not until you’ve had a talk together– all nine of you.

he settles for tugging you in the direction of haneul’s bedroom, hand never letting go of yours as he softly ushers, “let me tuck you back into bed.”

and so fifteen years after your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer still takes the form of a sweet, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.

your instinctive reaction is to shut the door in hongjoong’s face.

when seonghwa had texted you asking you to open your front door, you had been expecting said man for obvious reasons. so when you pull the door open and see kim fucking hongjoong at your doorstep in fucking namhae instead, of course you slam the door shut. because why the fuck is he here?

“oh shit,” you curse, when it registers in your brain.

hongjoong is here and you’ve just shut the door in his face. if you had even an ounce of collectedness in you, you would realise that the boys’ initial and very much candid reaction of shock to seeing you randomly show up at their dorm in seoul is suddenly very relatable. you yank the door open again.

“sure, why don’t you just go ahead and punch me in the fucking face too,” hongjoong scowls.

immediately, you furrow your eyebrows, “well, if you’re offering…”

“oh, fuck off,” he raises his middle finger at you.

you raise both middle fingers in retaliation, “yeah, back into my house that you’re standing in front of.”

“for god’s sake–kim hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses in exasperation, head poking out of san’s door as he eavesdrops to make sure this exact thing doesn’t happen. “you’re here to apologise!”

hongjoong appears rightfully berated, then he looks at anything but you as he huffs, “can i come in?”

“depends,” you cross your arms defiantly. “are you going to try and kick me out?”

despite the prickliness of the conversation, it almost feels right in a sense. as if there’s no real heat behind your words and you two are back to the easy banter you used to have– before your near-kiss with him. this time, though, seonghwa hisses your name in frustration.

“geez! okay!” you fluster as you step back and open the door wider, letting hongjoong in and away from the prying ears of the older.

you sit tentatively on your couch and he mirrors you, scratching the back of his neck as he perches himself on the edge. it’s awkward and tense when it becomes apparent to the both of you that you’re alone. “i didn’t think you would come,” you break the silence.

he hums softly, “me neither.”

you don’t know how to respond so you don’t, allowing the quiet to settle over your living room once more. eventually, hongjong opens his mouth quietly, “i was–am ashamed of myself.”

you’ve been there before– on the other side of the conversation as the one doing the apologising. you know how difficult it is to be honest about your own emotions, particularly the negative ones, so you wait patiently for him to find the right words.

“i’ve been ashamed ever since the night i tried to kiss you. i was a coward and i did nothing to change it. i only ended up hurting you and i’ve regretted it every single day. i think about why i didn’t talk to you afterwards, why i said those things about you and your ex…why i didn’t just kiss you.”

you can’t help but inhale sharply at his confession, because that can only mean one thing.

hongjoong gathers the courage to look at you as he admits, “i did like you. i still do. but i was an idiot and thought that i was doing the best thing for everybody. i shouldn’t have made that choice for you nor tried to have a say in your love life. i was jealous and i know now how toxic i was being, which is why i was so stubborn about not coming to namhae because i didn’t think my apology would be good enough. so i’m sorry for all the things i said and did, but i’m also sorry that it took me this long to talk to you.”

he looks so uncharacteristically unsure of himself as he timidly asks, “will you forgive me?”

there’s not a moment of hesitation before you’re closing the gap between the two of you on the couch so that you can wrap your arms around him. and in a rare display of vulnerability, he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. you comfort, “i forgive you. there are a lot of things i’m ashamed of doing too. but we all make mistakes and that’s what helps us to grow.”

“you still like me?” he mumbles into your neck.

you laugh at the ticklish feeling, “very much so, hongjoong.” because in forgiveness there is love, and you have years of owed love to show the boys.

only when your sides become cramped and your necks become stiff do you finally pull away from each other. as you make eye contact with him though, you’re suddenly reminded of his confession. you know that you will need to have another talk with hongjoong about it, and you still don’t know where the other boys stand in terms of pursuing something romantic with you, but that will be for later. right now, you are content and at peace– the nine of you against the world once more.

“let’s go find the rest of the boys?” you ask.

he grins, holding a hand out to pull you up with him as he answers, “let’s go.”

just as hongjoong puts on his shoes by the doorway, he distractedly questions, “why are these here?”

you frown and follow his line of sight, settling on the top of the cabinet in your hallway where a pair of gloves sit– the ones you had discovered in your coat on your way back to namhae. “you know who they belong to?”

“yeah,” he nods, absentmindedly touching them before walking out the door. “i bought them last year, but they were too big so i gave them to san.”

it was san who hid them in your coat.

you numbly follow his steps outside where the boys have gathered in waiting and are sitting side by side on the embankment, facing the ocean. they are simply living in the moment, basking in the golden rays of sunlight and the warm touch of the person by their side– an arm around a waist; a head on a shoulder. you almost don’t want to disturb them, but you know the seven of them are not complete. not without hongjoong, and not without you.

and as your gaze meets san who smiles at the both of you, his chest swelling with relief, pride and love, you realise that san had bared his heart out to you long before you even knew.

once you fall back into routine with them, it starts to become obvious. the way the boys naturally gravitate towards one another with doting gazes and lingering touches; the casual use of a pet name or flirtatious joke; the shifts in dynamic you had noticed before that seem to extend beyond friendship. it starts to make sense when you realise that that’s exactly the reason– no longer are their relationships purely based on platonic love, but romantic love.

it’s why yunho knocks his forehead against mingi’s just to see him smile, and why san pretends to grumble when wooyoung kisses his cheeks, only to give the younger a proper kiss mere seconds later. it’s why jongho never lets yeosang carry his own surfboard even if he’s just as strong, and it’s why seonghwa and hongjoong like to disappear into the shower together.

but the longer you mull over these interactions for, the more you realise that they don’t seem to be simply ‘paired off’. you notice how jongho refuses to be cuddled but will nestle against seonghwa when he’s tired, and how yunho and yeosang seek out each other’s company before bedtime. you notice how wooyoung squeezes hongjoong’s ass underwater to make him yelp, and how san and mingi are content to just sit together on their surfboards on the sand.

rather than a question of who is with who, it becomes a question of who isn’t with who, and this time, you also find yourself mixed into the equation. but it confuses you whenever they treat you the same and you find yourself holding back despite your feelings, because it’s much harder to tell what kind of love they’re giving you when you yourself yearn for the intimate type.

san notices the change in your demeanour, as small as it may be, and decides it’s time for the talk. so here the nine of you sit on the beach that stretches in front of your houses. the sand is still warm from the sun even as it starts to dip towards the horizon of the sea. yeosang’s jacket lays over your bare legs and a slight breeze tugs delicately at your clothes.

“okay, so who’s telling her?” yunho elbows wooyoung as soon as the words leave the latter’s lips.

“what? how else are we meant to start the conversation?” wooyoung complains before mocking, “the reason i have gathered you all here today–”

rolling your eyes, you cut to the chase, “are you all dating each other?”

wooyoung chokes on his own words and everybody else looks at you with wide eyes.

“how’d you know?” yeosang startles.

seonghwa agrees, “i didn’t think we were that obvious,” but when you simply raise an eyebrow in response, he’s quick to amend, “okay, maybe we were.”

san eyes the others to see if anyone wants to step in and lead the conversation, but when nobody does, he speaks up to explain, “we’ve been dating each other for just over a year now–so before last summer. it took a bit of time to work everything out, establish boundaries and communicate what we wanted from one another, but we’re happy like this.”

“once our relationship had settled down a little, that’s when i came out to my parents,” mingi adds, “which didn’t go down well. we wanted to tell you last summer too, but…other things happened and it all fell through before we could talk about it.”

yeosang meekly scratches the back of his neck as he says, “it’s long overdue, but we’re telling you now.”

the chuckle that comes out of you is light and carefree. “i’m happy for you guys,” you affirm sincerely. “i don’t think there’s anybody else who is more perfect for you guys than each other.”

you truly do. you’re thankful that they have one another and you finally understand how hard it must’ve been for san during your argument to pick a side. his boys were and are his priority and you cannot fault him for putting them first. but then you’re reminded of hongjoong and his confession. are the others aware of his feelings?

said man has the audacity to frown at you in confusion. “why does it sound like you’re just wishing us well?”

“am i not allowed to do that as your friend?” you mirror his expression.

“god,” hongjoong exhales. “do you think we’re telling you this just to reject you?”

“of all people to say that–rub it in my face, why don’t you,” you grumble.

he starts to grasp the situation as he looks at the rest of the boys, “wait, did nobody fucking confess to her apart from me?”

the explosion of responses to his question is immediate.

“you confessed–” “–i thought we agreed to confess together–” “–trust you to cut in line! that’s not fair!”

your eyes dart wildly from side to side, unsure of who to focus on as they all start to passionately talk over one another. at one point, someone tries to chuck a handful of sand in hongjoong’s direction, but it scatters innocuously before it can even get close.

“hold the fuck up,” you yell over the commotion. “confess what?”

“how did you figure out that we’re in a polyamorous relationship but not that the feelings extend to you as well?” yeosang judges you.

“i didn’t want to project my own feelings and misconstrue anything. plus, none of you have actually mentioned liking or dating girls before, so i just…”

“assumed we didn’t have feelings for you,” seonghwa concludes as you laugh awkwardly.

wooyoung deadpans, “we may have wanted to punch your ex in the face for his shitty-ass personality because we were your friends, but we were also jealous as fuck.”

“all of you?” you ask in disbelief.

“all of us. some of us were just better at hiding it,” mingi looks pointedly at the boy sitting on his left.

“you’re one to talk about hiding your feelings,” hongjoong counters before turning to you to expose, “mingi wouldn’t shut up about you after he met you.”

mingi immediately shoves him backwards into the sand.

“look,” jongho cuts in, “what we’re trying to say is that we’ve all liked you for a while now, and if you still feel the same way about us, then we’d like to take our relationship with you to the next step.”

how many times have you wanted this moment– for all of them to return your confession. but now that it’s actually becoming a reality, it’s honestly a little daunting. “you’re all serious about this?”

a lot will change over the next year. most of you will join hongjoong and seonghwa as postgraduates and start full-time work. san will move back to namhae, but whether the others will follow or stay in seoul is unknown. there are a lot of uncertainties regarding the future and the relationship will only work if everyone is serious about making it work.

yunho answers on everyone’s behalf, “we’re very serious.”

you take a moment to look at all of them one by one, only to find the same promise within their gazes– that even if things become difficult, they want to face it with you by their side.

it feels right when san is the one to officially ask the question, “y/n, will you be our girlfriend?”

like san once said, it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, and you’ve been blessed with not only one, but eight of these people. between friendship and love, you already know from experience what you will decide– so you make your choice.

“i forgot, are hongjoong and wooyoung coming down this weekend?” san pokes his head in through the doorway.

you eye him from the mirror, face void of expression to reply, “don’t count on it.”

san’s pout is immediate and you laugh, shuffling over to console your boyfriend from where you had been getting ready in your shared bathroom. he grumbles, “you’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?” but he can’t hide the way his lips pull upwards the moment you press a chaste kiss against his cheek in apology.

“hongjoong said that there were a couple of delays with filming, so he and wooyoung can’t step away just yet. but they’ll come back next saturday if they can wrap things up by then.”

as you talk, san takes the halter straps out of your grasp so that he can help secure your top around your neck. “it’s so hard to align everyone’s schedules together. i miss the long holiday breaks we got in college,” you absently complain, body relaxing under the ministrations of san’s hands as he gently squeezes the nape of your neck.

“me too, love,” another voice joins the conversation. seonghwa walks up to tenderly ruffle san’s hair and nuzzles your temple with his nose. “but we have to work hard to pay off this house and to spoil you with whatever you want.”

seonghwa has grown out his hair and has kept it long since, and you love running your fingers through his silken waves before he goes to work every morning. he always looks so soft and cosy with his round glasses and fluffy sweaters that you know his school kids adore just as much as you do. but right now, his face bare of makeup and hair pulled back into a messy updo, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts to show off his upper build, he looks the complete opposite of what you’re used to seeing and you feel your stomach doing flips in response.

you lean into both of their touches as you giggle, “we could have bought a smaller house. nobody sleeps in their own bedroom anyway.”

“well can you really blame us for being madly in love,” seonghwa grins, stealing a kiss from you that only serves to elicit more giggling.

“that’s true. your beds are always warmer than mine,” you agree.

“exactly. now come on, are you ready to go?”

the three of you walk downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the boys are waiting around in various mismatches of shirts, tank tops or only shorts. after two weeks of attempting to keep everybody’s clothes separate once you’d all moved in together, they had simply given up and made their wardrobes communal.

as you drop a spare bottle of sunscreen into your tote bag, a pair of arms snake themselves around your waist. you turn around, sweet smile ready to greet whoever it is. your jaw drops, “wooyoung?”

his eyes sparkle with mischief, even more so when your eyes grow even wider at the sight of hongjoong perched on the edge of the couch in the background and you exclaim, “hongjoong? i thought you two weren’t coming until next week?”

wooyoung takes the opportunity of your dazed compliance to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. “we caught up with the schedule,” he exclaims happily. “you should’ve seen hongjoong though. director kim made sure to work us hard.”

you playfully wriggle yourself out of the vice-like hug you’re in to bound over to the older, who automatically opens his arms to welcome you. you slot easily between his legs and his hands rub the sides of your back fondly as he looks up to ask, “did you miss me?”

forgoing an answer, you lean down to kiss him. wooyoung immediately complains, “why didn’t i get a kiss?” so san pulls him in for one to appease him. you’d never be able to leave the house otherwise, because then everyone would start demanding your kisses. and considering that it has been a few long months since you last had quality time with all eight of them at the same time, there would be too many wanted kisses to count.

one thing you had all agreed on prior to buying a house in namhae was to ensure it had a beach front, just like your and san’s old home. so it doesn’t take long to carry your surfboards– save for you; the boys like it when you use theirs– and towels down to the shore.

you close your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of salt and subtle feeling of ocean spray on your skin. it’s a bittersweet emotion, knowing that it’s already the last day of summer, but only today have the nine of you been able to align your schedules this year. it makes you appreciate these fleeting moments of rest though, and you learn to find rest in each other too.

some of the boys start slipping off their tops, dropping them onto the sand to keep them dry as they surf. you’ve found that the greatest perk of dating them is that you’re allowed to openly and unashamedly ogle at them. the rigid shadows of their muscles reveal the discipline and hard work they put into maintaining their bodies despite their busy jobs.

san had also been monitoring his protein intake leading up to his recent dance showcase, so it’s very hard to look at the expanse of his broad chest and prominent dip of abs down his hips without feeling a rush of heat in your lower stomach. if the boys know that you offer to help them reapply sunscreen just to get a little handsy with them, then nobody says anything. (they offer to help you reapply your sunscreen as well.)

you’re content to just lie down on your towel and watch the boys, yeosang in his usual place by your side as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder and traces the names of his lovers onto the skin of your stomach. mingi starts dragging his surfboard into the water, but when wooyoung attempts to push him in instead– and fails miserably– all thoughts of surfing are quickly forgotten. it becomes an absolute shitshow when hongjoong gets mistaken for the culprit and mingi picks him up. 

“it wasn’t me!” the older shrieks, but mingi has no ears for reasoning and prepares to drop him into the water. unwilling to go down by himself, hongjoong grips mingi’s neck at the last second and successfully drags him underwater with his weight. as wooyoung runs away absolutely delighted by the outcome, his trajectory unfortunately runs into jongho, who cuts off his cackles with a giggle, a simple shove sideways and a resultant splash.

not even bystanders can catch a break, and seonghwa screams for mercy as san and yunho suddenly grab his arms and legs. they sway him from side to side before letting him go with the momentum of the last swing to fling him into the ocean. everyone erupts into a united clamour of glee at the dunking of the eldest and you find yourself shaking your head at their unchanging antics.

you don’t think you can ever get tired of watching their radiant smiles of happiness and shared touches of sun-kissed skin, nor can you ever get tired of hearing their tinkling chimes of laughter and rowdy shouts of mischief. you may all grow older and there may not be as much time or luxury to simply bask in the joys of summer any longer; these golden hours that you are living in right now may forever remain as your sole memories when you reflect back on the essence of your youth.

on this day– the last day of summer in namhae– you find that summer takes the form of shared ice cream with sticky kisses, long showers with warm touches, and hushed pillow talk with synchronous heartbeats. but it doesn’t matter to you, not anymore.

the seasons will change and the years will pass, but so long as you are with your boys, every day will be summer.

[persesophrosyne]

STOP looking for information!

warning: calling some of yall out on your behavior ahead😷😷

bro? aren't you tired? haven't you spent enough hours/days/even WEEKS scrolling through every post you find? reading every book, so desperate for trying to achieve?

YOU KNOW EVERYTHING. IF I TRUST YOU, YOU SHOULD TRUST YOURSELF. STOP freaking out or overthinking. it's not that complicated

manifestation is literally the easiest thing in the world, no other task you can think of requires less effort than this. it's easier than BREATHING.

I urge to you to stop trying to find the perfect post, to wait for your "spritual awakening" and shit like that, you are already a master manifestor, do not compare yourself to others. i mean, they are literally you pushed out, everything starts from you and ends in you. nobody in this world is better than you, nobody is luckier or more "skillfull". it's only YOU. you are the one and only, the almighty.

repeat after me

"i am god, I created everything. every single thing in this world starts from within me. I control how my life functions. I control how this whole UNIVERSE functions. I'm the center of the fucking universe, I am capable of everyhting. I get whatever I want, with unrealistic ease and speed. doubting any of this, is pure insanity"

this is literally all the info you need to know to manifest, stop trying to find something and just reading the same thing over and over again

you want something? stop being desperate. this whole fucking universe belongs to you! you are capable of achieving every single thing your mind can possibly think of, throw that "logic" out the WINDOW.

A god like you does not have the word "logic" in their vocabulary. you see, you want, you FUCKING GET! THATS THE ONLY WAY, THATS THE LAW, THERE'S NO FUCKING OTHER POSSIBILITY. NO MARGIN FOR ERROR IS POSSIBLE WHATSOEVER.

so stop spiraling. stop over thinking. take a deep breath, realize who tf you are and go affirm.

throughout your life, the single most thing you should absolutely never do, is to doubt yourself. once you realize that, and stop doing so, you will achieve things so magical, and realize how addictive and beautiful life is. you were never meant to be miserable, you were meant to be on the top of this fucking world, to have it dance on your little pinky finger. act like it.

[clumsyexpression]

Rosinante Donquixote x Fluff Alphabet

I love this man with a burning passion - he lights my heart afire and kindles the fuzzies 🔥🔥🔥🔥 I'm not very good at romance, but i still wanted to shoot my shot and give it a try c:

⇥ based on this fluff alphabet prompt found here

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Spontaneous human combustion. He doesn’t understand how he does it but he wish he could make it stop.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

You know when you leave home, and you know you’re going to be awhile, so you double check EVERY known hazard that you’re aware of in case of some weird, freak accident happening? Well it’s especially anxiety-inducing for Rosinante because of his accident-prone self and even after triple checking all of his appliances and outlets and he sets off to go to Target or whatever, it’s only halfway through his commute that he realizes that he probably left the stove on after all and almost instantaneously as the realizations sets, a strident succession of beeps sound off, cause he’s sitting in the middle of traffic until BLAM! He jolts forward, sitting ramrod straight in bed as he awakens from the fire alarm going off, smelling something getting extra crispified as indicative from the sooty smoke coming up from the hall towards the kitchen and so he jumps out of bed only to see that apparently it was from the toast that had already popped up from the toaster and the crumbs were still toasting in the crumb collection tray and then bizarrely enough, when they were done toasting, they also popped up in the toaster like toast would do and eqaully as loud when you’re not expecting the toast to pop up when they go PFFT! And then he realizes that ‘no, there was no toast’ as he begins to wonder why the origin of the sound he heard is right above him – only to realize that he’s now drenched because you just hosed him down and the sound was definitely because the hose had too much air in the line and you admonish him for smoking while falling asleep and he insists that he wasn’t and then you realize he was right, cause he totally caught on fire because he just sat in sun and by freak chance – like an ant under a magnifying glass – he just kinda caught..fire..

Anyways, his worst nightmares consist of spontaneous human combustion and its quite understandable.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

YES. Definitely a family man. He yearns to know what its like to have somewhat of a normal, loving family without strife and would fight the world in order to make it possible for yall to live comfortably without the worry of the evil, hurt, and turmoil that runs amok in the world. It would also be very convenient and comforting knowing that there are people who will have his back unconditionally to douse him with water when he spontaneously catch aflame.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Not that he would try to baby you – he knows that you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself – but knowing how many injuries he may have accumulated or ‘walked off’,  he can be a little over protective but will still give you your space, if that makes sense. He’ll ask often if ‘you’re okay?’, or ‘have you drunken enough water today? You might be a little dehydrated’,  or sometimes ‘I’m not saying that you need it, but if you’re not using it, I’ll hold on to that burn ointment for the time being..until you do, that is’. He just likes to make sure.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

You know when you make a mood playlist and you cant expect people to understand it completely? That’s how I see Rosinante – he’s so complex and reminds me of a variety of things, so hear me out:

Fireball – Pitbull

You can call him Mr.Worldwide cause he’s a marine and been places

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but I don’t care’ cause my boy is clumsy and that shit gets old after a while – the only thing that’s somewhat new is the new way he finds to be even clumsier

‘Momma said that everyone would know my name - I'm the best’ MM YEAH cause he used to be a celestial dragon and everyone knows about them

‘If you think I'm burning out, I never am - I'm on fire’ HLLE YEAH cause he’s literally on fire and there’s no definitive way of ever keeping him…not-on-fire lmao

We Didn’t Start The Fire – Billy Joel

My mans is trying to better the world and even joined the Marines in order to do so dunno if that was the right call or whatever but he did

Firework – Katy Perry

Okay but who cant relate???

And he’s trying his best.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Rosinante is just a naturally quiet person, devil fruit and covert operations aside. He occasionally glances at you, which causes his small smile to grow wider when you catch him watching you. He gives subtle affirmations, but is also very expressive; like, he can wear a mean poker face and all, but when his guard is down (which is typical when he’s around you), he’s not aware of how transparent he can truly be.

For example,

when he tries your cooking, he’ll be over the moon about it and will give you mad props for the delicious meal and will sincerely look forward to it again;

when he catches you making a pun, he’ll snort the moment he makes the connection;

when you stomp out his coat because the tail end has somehow kindled a fire out of thin air without him noticing, he’ll truly be confused cause ‘why are you stepping on my coat? I thought you hated my hat more, but..that’s a bit much, Y/N’

I dunno, but there you have it – my guy is pretty lit and wuv him so so much 💕💕💕

Jk this was not actually a fluff alphabet prompt but actually a SOS from yours truly cause he could really use a fire extinguisher right about now and hopes you got the message ( ･ᴗ･̥̥̥ )

[prettyboykatsuki]

A crumb more of inexperienced bakugou pleathe bestie 😩😩😩

well since u asked 

cw ;; fem!reader, smut/18+, bakugou being a perv kinda 

bkg was not raised to try and fall in love more than one time. if he’s going through the effort of getting to know and date someone, you best fucking believe that he’s marrying this person. yall gonna be together forever whether u like it or fucking not 😭 he doesn’t care man. 

but bc he’s so damn stubborn abt that - he’s hella inexperienced. which.. is confusing. because he’s a pro-hero and an attractive. all those horny photoshoots for womens mags and fundraisers for hero calendars and he’s  inexperienced? you find it hard to believe, especially because he’s not exactly a virgin. he lost his virginity to some older women when he was a young pro but he really didn’t have any idea what he was doing. 

fast-forward years n years, bakugou snags someone willing to tolerate his dumbass. he tells you he’s not a virgin (not a lie, exactly) and you decide to get down with it. he’s a really good kisses surprisingly, rough and knows where to put his hands. 

the good things stop there. he’s sucking at your titties for like. all of 2 mins and then he’s tugging your shorts down n ur like oh! he wanna get down to business that fast? you think he’s abt to give you head, maybe finger you - something.

so why the hell is he pulling his dick out? and where the hell does he think it’s going? 

you full stop put your hand on his chest and ask him what the fuck he’s doing. and he looks at you like 🤬🤔 and now the two of you are sitting on the couch, dick out, talking because what the fuck fr. 

bakugou was pretty sure he knew what sex looked like from porn but he didn’t even really watch a lot of that. so you have to sit there and explain to him about foreplay and about all the other shit you need to get it going. 

“i like it a little rough but since this is kinda your first time we can go slow,” is what you tell him. 

what you don’t know is that you’ve unintentionally awakened something in him that he didn’t really spend a lot of time thinking about. now the two of your are tangled on the bed, legs between each other. and bakugous got these big, bright red eyes as you pull your shirt up above your tits. he watches you pinch your nipples and make a little gasping sound as you explain to him what you like. 

you’ve created a monster, really. you sound so pretty and out of breath, he keeps wanting to hear it again. you gasp when you feel his tongue again - this time much more careful but forceful too. hot wet mouth around your nipples, the other hand pinching your nipples. and every time you make a noise, you can feel his cock twitch so hard against your thighs. 

he goes at it for what feels like hours. exploring your chest and body with his mouth n tongue just trying to see how you like it best. you have to push his face away - panting hard from how turned on you are, how desperate. you can see it in your face it’s not enough for him. 

“l-let’s move on,” you insist, ready to go and get fucked. bakugou grabs your wrist when you reach for it - looks at you with such blown out eyes. he licks his lips as he scoots back - spreads your thighs all the way apart n examines your cunt. it’s glistening n pretty, throbbing so hard. he keeps looking, forces your legs open. you wanna whine about how embarassing it is, that he’s too close (and he is, can feel his breath against your clit) 

“no, no - you said there was more i had to do first right? touch ya n’ shit? show me. i wanna see how you touch yourself. wanna make you feel good,” 

bakugou might be inexperienced but he’s a quick learner you know? 

[danihwang882]

Hit you with inspiration muse then. MILE HIGH CLUB OR TRAIN CLUB AROUND TWO OTHER MEMBERS. two things i will never do but will for felix and hyunjin. Define when you sneak into the bathroom to fjuck or fuck in the seats of the plane in front of everyone.

Purpose to get him over his fear of heights, and my fear of tublances.

Reminder Bang, you passed this up. So whatever.

THEN BACKSTAB DEEPLY INTO HEART LIKE I WAS. BECAUSE I CAN PULL OUT THOSE SWORDS FROM MY HEART AND EMBRACE MYSELF AND DESNITY AND FATE.

KITTEN WILL CHOOSE TWO THINGS. LOVE AND SEX OR VIOLENCE. how serious am i? very.

Me and my sister in law. We have a mechanic in the family. He will rip the brakes outta your car.

EXACTLY ME AND BANG.

WE TAKE OUR MEDS FOR US FIRST, THE MASSES AS A CLOSE SECOND, THE THIRD STAYS AND FELLOW MEMBERS.

SO NEVER BE ASHAMED OF YOUR MENTAL ILLNESS CHANNIE. I CARE THAT YOU GET BETTER. IT SUCKS BUT YOU HAVE MY FULL SUPPORT. DON'T EVER FORGET THAT DAY YOU TOLD ME TO SEEK HELP FOR MINE. BEST ROLE MODEL EVER.

so does universe when I am around for you!

all it takes is one prayer and 4 days later.

Also I got an message from divive above. Our awakening is in stone in the 3d. So AM i ready? No, but I gotta be regardless. RING OF FIRE, might awaken and it always starts with the Divine Fem.

WHAT i know about Universe, can't ever stop her and God protects even her.

HOW can someone as smol, as me be just a badass in the universe.

it does my heart and soul good to be free!!!!!

This is for Felix only. Wedding song for sure. Dad and Daughter dance and if he doesnt make it. Elder brother and sister dance. T^T

Felix can we actually donate some of the procreeds of the Tokyo Dome Concert to The Ukanine and Russian war? Any little bit helps.

Democaracy has to win yall, regardless of class in this culture. Regardless of the fact RED, BLUE, GREEN, Undecided.

Despite what you as a person or family got going on. Please vote Thump. Or what you feel is right for you. Even if it's like a bullshit sassy/sarcastic remark of like GO FUCK YOURSELF, BIDEN.

Give to military and navy forces please. Our people need it for surviving when they come back. Not many of them do, thats why they have ptsd but choose not to share like some stays family parents dont share with their youngers. Like my family and me.

I've seen the navy's members finincal suffering in my city and they bitch and complain that going off boats is too much to survive. So help them help themselves and their own. But they need that break of civialian life to find a reason to fight on.

Wanna know something GRIEF is a form of PTSD. It tramuaizes but you can heal from it.

GOOGLE proves what I know about me.

Grief and PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) are distinct experiences, but they can occur together1. The main difference is that grief is a normal reaction to loss, while PTSD is a mental disorder2.

no but writing smau is so hard?? like how do I make sure it’s interesting?? I feel like I’m just grasping at straws