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ts19009 · 6 days ago

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My jaw is dropped. I love hunger games aus

the odds.

pairing. yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

summary. in which you and yoon jeonghan, the tributes from district four, must fake being madly in love in order to ensure your survival. only, it seems like the odds are never in your favour.

contains. romance, angst, implied smut, action, best friends to lovers, fake dating!au, the hunger games!au. profanity, violence, blood, injuries, death, etc. word count. 9.7k a/n. this is a birthday gift for my dear best friend, @idubiluv! i know you bias jeonghan and i also know your favourite book series is the hunger games, so i wrote a little something for you :) happy 21st, and here’s to many more years of friendship!!! 🥂 ilysm. song rec. can’t catch me now by olivia rodrigo

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.” – Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games.

Yoon Jeonghan knows he’s screwed the moment he hears your name being called at the reaping.

It’s spoken into the hot, briny air with a clarity that leaves no room for him to pretend he misheard. The syllables fall from the District Four escort’s painted mouth like hooks into deep water, sinking straight into his chest.

The world stops moving. The breeze dies, the gulls fall silent, and even the waves rolling in toward the docks seem to hold still. Then, the square breathes again—mothers clutching children, boots scraping on cracked stone, the official clearing her throat to say your name again, slower this time, letting it echo across the district square.

Jeonghan doesn’t hear the murmur of the crowd or the metallic creak of the microphone stand. He doesn’t hear the call for you to come forward. All he hears is the rush of blood in his ears and the single thought that anchors itself with terrifying certainty: She can’t go in there alone.

The crowd parts for you, an instinctive ripple of distance, and you walk through it with your chin high, steps unhurried. You don’t look back; you’ve never been one to flinch. But Jeonghan notices your hands. Even from where he stands, he can see the tension in your fingers, the way they curl into fists. You’ve always been braver than him. Braver and far too stubborn for your own good. That same stubbornness has carried you across open water in storms, dared you to dive from the tallest cliff into the shallows below, and pushed you to speak out when others swallowed their words. Now, he realises with a hollow twist of his stomach, that bravery is going to get you killed in the arena.

He blinks and you’re halfway to the stage already. His pulse spikes, fast and erratic.

The escort’s voice rings out again, bright and formal. “And for our male tribute…”

The name that follows barely registers. Some boy a few years younger than him, one Jeonghan vaguely recognises from the fishery. The kid’s shoulders hunch as he takes a step forward. He’s pale, shaking, terrified—and for a brief, selfish moment, Jeonghan thinks, At least it’s not me.

His gaze finds you again.

You, standing alone in front of the square, your figure small against the vastness of the stage. You, about to step into a place where the Capitol sends children to die for sport. You, who will be gone from his life in a matter of weeks if he doesn’t do something now.

His body moves before his brain catches up.

“I volunteer!”

The words rip from his throat, raw and sharp. Heads turn instantly. The boy stops mid-step, relief flooding his face as if Jeonghan’s voice is a lifeline he didn’t expect. There’s a beat of silence—two, maybe three heartbeats—before the escort beams and gestures him forward.

“Wonderful!” she trills. “A volunteer! Name, please?”

“Yoon Jeonghan,” he says.

The crowd stirs at the sound of his name, a ripple of recognition through the mass of bodies. He can feel their eyes on him, heavy and questioning, like the weight of a net full of fish dragging him down. Jeonghan ignores them. His gaze is locked on you and the way your expression flickers—confusion first, then something harder to read, a fleeting mix of disbelief and anger.

The stage creaks under his boots as he climbs the steps. The heat hits him differently here, pressing against the back of his neck, making the fine hairs there stick to his skin. He forces his breathing to stay steady, because if the Capitol cameras catch him faltering now, they’ll play it back over and over for the entire nation to see.

He takes his place beside you. You don’t turn to look at him. He stands close enough that the edge of his sleeve brushes yours. Neither of you move away.

The escort’s voice soars over the square, syrupy sweet, rehearsed to perfection. “And there we have it—our two brave tributes from District Four!”

There’s polite applause from the crowd, thin and hollow. Jeonghan doesn’t hear the rest of the escort’s speech. His mind is already spinning ahead—past the cameras, past the applause, to the hours ahead. The Justice Building. The train. The Capitol. The arena.

The anthem begins to play, tinny through the old speakers mounted on either side of the stage. Jeonghan leans just slightly toward you, enough for his voice to be swallowed by the music, and whispers, “The odds are in our favour.”

You flinch imperceptibly. “Why did you—”

“Later,” he cuts in, because if you ask now, he might tell you the truth. That he couldn’t stand the thought of watching you walk into that place alone. That every instinct in him screamed to go with you, even if it meant dying there.

The anthem ends. The escort claps her hands together, teeth flashing white. “Now, let’s get our tributes inside to prepare for their journey to the Capitol!”

Peacekeepers step forward, guiding you both toward the side entrance of the Justice Building. The crowd parts again, their faces blurring into a wash of muted colours: sunburnt cheeks, salt-cracked lips, eyes that won’t meet his.

The train’s motion is constant, a low vibration through the mattress, through his bones, through the body pressed into his side. Outside the window, the ocean rushes past, a silver-black smear broken only by the flash of a lighthouse beam every few minutes. He watches the coastline fade into nothing until his eyes ache, then lets them drift back to you.

You’re curled against him like you used to when you were small, your knees drawn up, and your hand bunched lightly in the front of his shirt. You don’t cling, exactly—you never have—but there’s a weight to the way you rest against him, a trust that sits heavy in his chest. His arm is wrapped around you, palm splayed between your shoulder blades, holding you in place without thinking about it.

It’s been years since you last slept like this, but his body remembers. He remembers the orphanage beds, the rough wool blankets, the sound of the rain battering the roof while you shivered in your sleep. He remembers curling around you so you’d stop shaking, whispering stupid things just to make you snort quietly and forget, if only for a few seconds, that you’d both been left behind.

Now, the bed is Capitol-soft, the sheets so clean they don’t smell like anything at all, but it’s still the same.

You breathe slowly, but he knows you’re not asleep. He can feel the tension in you, the way your fingers flex faintly in his shirt. He wants to tell you it’s going to be fine, that you’ll walk out of the arena alive. But even though he’s a good liar, he knows you’d never believe him anyway.

“You should rest,” you say, voice muffled against his chest.

“And miss the chance to watch you drool on me? No thanks.”

The corner of your mouth lifts, but you don’t look up. You swat at his ribs, a half-hearted little tap that barely connects before he catches your wrist. He doesn’t mean to keep it, but his fingers close around yours and don’t let go. It’s thoughtless, instinctive. His thumb begins tracing slow circles over your knuckles, and the rhythm soothes something restless in him.

The train sways gently, the dim lights overhead casting soft shadows across your face. He listens to your breathing, catalogues the way your shoulders shift with each exhale, the warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. It would be easy to close his eyes and pretend you were still kids, still small enough to curl up on the same narrow bed and hide from the world in each other’s shadows. But the world is bigger now, crueler, and hiding has never been less possible.

His mind turns over the same truth he’s been chewing on since the reaping: the arena doesn’t reward the strongest or even the smartest. It rewards the ones who can make people watch. Make them care.

He tightens his grip on your hand. “You know, we’ve got an advantage.”

That gets your attention. You lean back just enough to glance up at him, suspicion and exhaustion clouding your gaze. “What are you talking about?”

“In the arena, people need a reason to root for you,” he says. “Fighting skill only gets you so far. It’s the stories that keep you alive.”

Your brows knit, but you don’t pull away.

“Two tributes from the same district? That’s nothing new. But two people so in love they’d rather die than be apart?” Now his eyes meet yours, sharp and searching. “That’s the kind of thing they’ll eat up. The kind that makes them send help when we need it. We play it for the cameras. Make them believe it. If they believe it, they’ll keep us both alive. That’s the only way this works.”

You study him for a long moment, and he wonders if you can see through him, see the part that’s already tangled up in you, the part that knows pretending might be harder than the truth.

But you only let out a slow breath, your hand still trapped in his, and settle back into his chest.

Jeonghan swears he stops breathing when he sees you in your dress for the interviews.

The noise from the prep team—stylists gossiping, cameras being adjusted—fades into nothing, as though someone pulled the plug on the entire world. All that’s left is the sight of you.

The dress is nothing like what you would ever wear back home in Four. Back home, it’s all salt-stiff linen and sun-bleached cotton, the hems frayed from saltwater and sand. But here, under the Capitol’s ruthless eye, you’re a vision in fabric that catches the light like the surface of the sea at dawn. It clings where it should, drapes where it needs to, every movement sending ripples though a thousand tiny beads that shimmer like fish scales. The neckline dips just enough to make his mouth go dry, though the design is too clever to be anything but purposeful. Your hair, usually wind-tangled and smelling faintly of brine, has been coaxed into sleek, deliberate waves, threaded through with glints of silver and aquamarine.

You look unreal. Untouchable.

Jeonghan hates that the first thought in his head isn’t about how stunning you are—it’s about how the audience will see you. How the cameras will drink you in. How the Capitol will turn you into something else entirely: not a girl from the docks, but a prize to be won, a jewel to be admired before it’s stolen away.

You meet his eyes across the room, and for a moment, you’re just you again—chin tilting up, the faintest twitch of a smirk at the corner of your mouth, the same look you’ve always given him when you’ve caught him staring. It’s enough to drag air back into his lungs.

“You’re going to get us killed,” he says under his breath when you’re close enough, though there’s no real bite to it.

You glance sideways at him, lashes low. “In a good way, I hope.”

His lips twitch, but the weight in his chest doesn’t lift. He forces himself to look away, busying his hands with the cuffs of his own interview suit—polished, tailored, nothing like the suits he’s used to. His stylist had wanted something “romantic,” something to pair with you on stage, and Jeonghan hadn’t argued. The pale shirt, the sea-green jacket, the glints of silver threat—they all make him look like he belongs at your side. That’s the point.

When Caesar Flickerman calls your name later, and you glide onto the stage beneath the blinding lights, Jeonghan’s stomach twists. You’re smiling now, perfectly measured for the audience: sweet but not timid, confident but not brash. Every answer you give lands exactly where it should. The Capitol will adore you. They’ll fall for you. They’ll remember you when you’re bleeding in the dirt.

When it’s his turn, Jeonghan’s steps feel heavier than they should. He shakes Caesar’s hand, smiles in that lazy, effortless way that’s always gotten him out of trouble, and answers the first few questions smoothly. But he knows that moment he’s been waiting for—the one he’s been planning—arrives when Caesar leans forward, lowering his voice just enough to sound conspiratorial.

“There’s been a lot of talk about you and your district partner,” Caesar says, eyes sparkling as he gestures toward where you’re seated offstage. “Care to comment?”

Jeonghan doesn’t answer right away. He lets the silence stretch just enough for the audience to feel the suspense. Every second he waits is another second the Capitol leans closer, waiting to be fed. He shifts in his seat, one arm draped loosely over the backrest, the other resting on his knee.

“Care to comment?” Caesar repeats, arching an eyebrow. The glitter on his cheekbones catches the stage lights.

Jeonghan glances toward you.

You’re sitting just off to the side of the stage, your hands folded neatly in your lap. The bright interview lights make every detail of you stand out—the glint of beads on your dress, the faint silver threading in your hair. He wonders if the cameras will catch what he sees: the sharp set of your jaw, the tension in your shoulders, the tiny shift of your thumb against your other palm.

He gives you the smallest, laziest half-smile he can manage.

“I could comment,” he says finally, turning his attention back to Caesar, “but I think it’s better if I tell you a story.”

“A story, you say?” Caesar leans forward. “Oh, I do love a good story.”

Jeonghan leans in too, his voice lowering just enough to make it feel like a confession, even though he knows every single Capitol citizen will hear him.

“I met her when we were just kids,” he begins. “Our parents worked together—fishing boats, out on the water before dawn, back after sunset. You grow up fast when your life’s measured in the weight of the day’s catch. But then one night, a storm came in quick. Not the kind you can outrun. A few of the smaller vessels didn’t make it back.”

He pauses, letting that hang. The Capitol loves tragedy—it makes their victors and their lovers all the more precious to them. He knows that. “That night,” he continues, “we both lost our parents.”

“They sent us to the orphanage. It was overcrowded, noisy, full of kids. I didn’t know anyone there. Didn’t even talk the first few days. But then…” He glances back at you again, and this time there’s no hiding the way his voice softens. “She sat next to me that first night. Handed me half a bread roll. Didn’t say anything, didn’t ask me for anything. She just… stayed.”

The audience sighs collectively. The Capitol loves moments like this—small, human, easy to package into something pretty for their broadcasts.

“I think that was the moment I decided she was my person,” Jeonghan says, and it’s not entirely a performance. “Years went by. We grew up together. She’s braver than I’ll ever be. Smarter, too. I used to think I’d spend my whole life just trying to keep up with her. Maybe make her laugh enough that she’d stick around.”

He lets out a short, almost self-conscious laugh—just enough to make him seem a little less polished. “But here’s the thing. When you’ve spent your whole life with someone like that, loving them stops being a choice. It’s not something you start or stop. One day, you just… realise you’d do anything for them. Even follow them into the arena.”

Caesar’s eyes widen slightly. Jeonghan can see the way you shift in your seat, your expression tightening, but you don’t look away from him.

“I’m not here to win for me,” Jeonghan says simply. “I’m here to keep her alive. And if I can’t…” He swallows, but his tone doesn’t waver. “Then at least I’ll know I was with her until the end.”

The studio goes still. The only sound is the faint whine of the lights and the click of a camera shutter somewhere in the crowd. Then the applause starts—a slow swell that builds into a roar, cheers echoing through the room. Your names are shouted together, chanted almost like a blessing.

Caesar laughs, clapping his hands together. “Well, if that isn’t the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard on this stage! Ladies and gentlemen, our District Four star-crossed lovers!”

The phrase catches instantly, repeated back by the audience as though it’s always belonged to you both. Star-crossed lovers. The Capitol will make sure it’s all over the broadcasts tomorrow. Jeonghan knows exactly what it means—more sponsors, more sympathy, more eyes watching your every move in the arena. It’s a strategy, yes. But it’s also the truth, and that’s what makes it dangerous.

The interview wraps up after that, Caesar expertly steering the conversation back to lighter questions, drawing laughs and easy smiles from Jeonghan while still circling back to you whenever possible. By the time it’s over, the audience is on its feet, waving banners, shouting for the two of you. The lights dim slightly as Caesar bids the viewers goodnight, and Jeonghan rises from his seat, his pulse racing.

He catches sight of you again as he steps offstage. The cameras are still rolling, so he plays his part—an easy smile, his hand reaching out to touch your elbow. But his voice, when he leans in, is low and meant only for you.

“They’re going to believe it,” he mumbles.

You lean into his side and press a kiss to the place where his jaw meets his cheek.

The arena is blistering hot.

It’s not just the sun overhead—it’s the ground beneath his boots, radiating heat like it’s been baking for centuries, the air shimmering in waves above the cracked earth. The second the gong sounds, Jeonghan feels it: the thickness of the air, the way each breath tastes like dust and iron, how the light blinds more than it illuminates. Even the Cornucopia in the centre of the clearing looks like it’s been set on fire, its curved metal glinting so brightly it forces him to squint.

He’s aware, dimly, of the other tributes breaking into motion, but his focus narrows to one thing—one person. You.

You’re three paces to his left, your body tenses like a bowstring, eyes locked on the pile of mid-range packs just off to the side of the Cornucopia’s mouth. You’d argued for going straight in—better weapons, better supplies—but he’d convinced you otherwise with the memory of the year District Four lost both tributes in the first two minutes.

The gong’s echo hasn’t even died before he’s sprinting, the soles of his boots slipping on loose dirt. The heat makes everything feel sluggish, but adrenaline drags his legs forward.

A flash of movement—District Two’s boy, broad-shouldered and charging the Cornucopia with an axe. The air rings with the metallic clang of weapons and the wet, terrible sounds of flesh meeting steel. Someone screams to his right, high and shrill, and is cut off in an instant. He forces himself not to look.

He spots you in the chaos—already at the edge of the Cornucopia’s shadow, snatching a sand-coloured pack and slinging it over one shoulder. He lungs for the one beside it, nearly losing his grip when a smaller tribute from Nine tries to wrench it away. A sharp elbow to the ribs sends the boy stumbling, and Jeonghan takes the moment to grab your wrist.

“Move!” he shouts.

Something whistles past his ear. He doesn’t need to see the knife to know how close it came; he feels the air part around it before it thunks into the dry ground inches from your boot. You don’t flinch. You just keep running.

The heat off the ground is so strong that Jeonghan swears he can feel it through the soles of his boots, like walking across a stove. The Cornucopia’s shadow falls away, replaced by a haze of dust and scrubland at the clearing’s edge. The air smells scorched, the earth split into jagged fissures where hardy tufts of thornbush grow.

A figure bursts into your path—a boy from Eight, clutching a length of rusted pipe. His eyes are wild, his movements frantic. He swings for you, but Jeonghan’s already shifting the pack in his hand, swinging it hard into the boy’s gut. The breath whooshes out of him in a choked sound, and you’re already slipping past before the boy can recover.

Every muscle in Jeonghan’s body is burning now, and not just from the sprint—it’s the heat, the sun pressing down like a shackle, the way each inhale feels hotter than the last. The sounds of the bloodbath fade as you push into the scrub, the branches clawing at your arms.

When you finally stop, you bend over, bracing your hands on your knees, your breath ragged but steady. Your pack slips halfway down one arm, and Jeonghan’s there instantly, pulling the strap back into place.

“You got it?” he asks.

You nod once, still catching your breath. “You?”

He pats the heavy pack on his back. “Enough to keep us alive for now. If we’re careful.”

The light here is strange, filtered through a thin veil of dust kicked up by the melee behind you. It makes the sun look even more merciless, a molten disk in a pale, cloudless sky. The Cornucopia is still visible if he turns his head, a smear of gleaming metal far across open ground, but the bodies around it are harder to see now.

A faint breeze shifts, carrying with it the scent of blood, sharp and unmistakable, and the faint metallic clang of weapons still being swung. Jeonghan clenches his jaw.

“We can’t stay here,” he says quietly. “No cover, no water. The heat will kill us before anyone else gets the chance.”

You push damp hair from your forehead, the strands sticking stubbornly to your skin. “Then where?”

“High ground,” he says, scanning the horizon. “Or shade, if we can find it. And we need water before the sun’s overhead. My guess? The Gamemakers will have it somewhere hard to get to.”

He adjusts his grip on the pack and waits for you to fall into step beside him. Together, you start moving deeper into the scrub. The ground is uneven, litters with pale, brittle stones that crack under your boots. The thornbushes grow denser here, forcing you to weave through narrow gaps.

Sweat runs down Jeonghan’s spine, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. His tongue feels thick in his mouth, and he knows it’s only going to get worse. The heat in District Four was humid, softened by sea breezes. This is different. This is an oven with no escape.

You walk in silence for a while, the only sound the crunch of your boots and the distant cries of birds circling high overhead, no doubt already feasting on the fallen. Every so often, Jeonghan glances over his shoulder, making sure no one’s following.

Eventually, a cluster of rock formation rises ahead—nothing huge, but enough to break the monotony of the flat land. More importantly, the tallest rock casts a sliver of shadow. It’s not much, but it’s enough for a short break. You drop into the shade first, pulling the pack into your lap and unfastening it. Inside: a half-empty canteen, a coil of thin rope, a few ration bars, and a hunting knife. Not much, but better than nothing.

Jeonghan sinks down beside you, tugging his own pack around. His haul is slightly better—another canteen, a folded tarp, a set of matches in a waterproof case, and a handful of dried meat wrapped in waxed paper. He exhales slowly.

“We can work with this,” he says. “At least for the first night.”

You take the canteen and drink, careful to only take two small sips before passing it back. He does the same, forcing himself not to drain it despite the dryness in his throat. The sun creeps higher. The heat radiates even from the rocks, but at least here, in the sliver of shade, it’s bearable.

Jeonghan leans back against the stone, closing his eyes for a moment. The image of the Cornucopia flashes in his mind again: the chaos, the blood, the knife spinning past you. His stomach knots, but he swallows it down.

The cold is merciless.

It doesn’t just nip at fingers and toes; it sinks deep, gnawing into marrow, leeching warmth until every muscle aches and every joint feels stiff enough to snap. The Capitol’s arena is a sadist’s masterpiece: blistering, heatstroke-inducing days that bake the ground into cracked, red dust, followed by nights so frigid the air bites like broken glass. It’s a cycle designed to wear the tributes down, to strip away endurance as surely as food and water.

Under the makeshift shelter—just the thin, crinkling tarp from Jeonghan’s pack stretched low over two crouched bodies—it feels like he’s losing the fight. The rocks holding it down barely keep the wind from slicing underneath, and every breath is a puff of vapour that disappears almost instantly. Jeonghan lies on his side with you tucked into him, your legs tangled, your forehead pressed against his collarbone. Even like this, with your combined body heat, the chill refuses to loosen its grip.

He’s trembling hard enough that the movement is probably visible to the cameras. His teeth knock together like chattering shells. He tries to control it, but the harder he fights, the worse it gets.

“Jeonghan,” you whisper, so quietly it’s almost lost under the wind’s keening. “You’re freezing.”

He forces out a hoarse chuckle. “Good thing you’re here to keep me warm, then.”

The joke doesn’t land. You don’t smile. Instead, your fingers flex faintly where they’re curled in the fabric of his jacket, brushing the ribs beneath. He can feel how cold your hands are, how tense your frame has gone.

“This isn’t sustainable,” you say, voice tight.

Jeonghan swallows, the movement slow, because he already knows what you’re thinking. “No. Not unless something takes pity on us.”

“Not pity,” you say, shifting just enough to tilt your face toward his in the darkness. “A reason.”

You don’t have to explain. You’ve both seen the Games for years—you know exactly what makes the sponsors open their wallets. Not skill. Not strategy. Not even desperation for its own sake. They want a story. Something they can romanticise.

Star-crossed lovers in peril.

Jeonghan lets the idea linger on his tongue before he finally says, “You think they’ll buy it?”

Your breath brushes his jaw when you answer. “They already have. You’re a good actor.”

He huffs out a faint, amused sound despite the cold slicing through him. “Flattery in this weather?”

“Just do it, Jeonghan,” you say, and there’s that stubborn edge in your tone that he’s known since you were children—since you were both orphans packed into the same damp, salt-scented dormitory, looking out for each other when no one else did.

So he does.

Jeonghan shifts closer until every inch of you is pressed into him, until the cameras can’t mistake the intimacy for anything else. He cradles the back of your head in his palm and tucks your face under his chin, curling around you like you’re the only thing in the world worth guarding. His breath is ragged and visible, the shivering in his frame impossible to hide, but he lets that vulnerability stay. If they want tragedy, he’ll give them tragedy.

“I can’t lose you,” he says, pitching his voice low, roughened with cold and something else. “Not here.”

You play your role flawlessly—soft inhale, trembling hands fisting tighter in his shirt, a whisper that’s almost a plea. “Then stay with me. Please.”

He lets his eyes close, letting the moment sit heavy, as if the beat of his heart is keeping him from answering too quickly. He hopes the cameras are eating this up. He hopes someone, somewhere in a warm Capitol penthouse, is leaning forward and thinking: Send them something. Keep them alive.

The wind shifts again, a jagged gust that rattles the tarp and makes him shake harder. He buries his face into your hair, letting the silence become something intimate. “We’ll get through this,” he says at last, letting his voice tremble just enough. “We have to.”

For a while, there’s only the rhythmic, uneven sound of your breathing and the distant rustle of the arena’s dead grasses in the wind. His body feels like it’s shutting down in slow increments. Fingers first, then toes, then the ache in his knees settling deep into bone. He’s so focused on keeping you in his arms that he almost misses it—

A faint, metallic clink.

His eyes snap open.

Above, the moonlight catches on something small and silver drifting down from the sky. A sponsor parachute. It’s so delicate in the way it floats, the ribbon curling as it descends, but the sight hits him like an electric jolt.

He doesn’t think—just moves, crawling out from under the tarp with the reckless speed of someone who’s suddenly found hope in a hopeless place. The wind bites harder without you against him, but he pushes through, snatching the package from the ground before it can roll away. The little bag bears nothing but the District Four seal.

By the time he ducks back under the tarp, you’re propped on one elbow, eyes locked on the bundle in his hands.

“Well?” you whisper, urgency threading through the syllable.

Jeonghan rips the seal with stiff fingers, the cold making every movement clumsy. The package opens to reveal something sleek and silvery, folded tight—a sleeping bag, but not like the bulky ones they’d use back home. This one was Capitol-made. Paper-thin, but lined with reflective tech that would trap your combined heat and multiply it.

He breathes out a shaky laugh, the first genuine one all night. “Guess they couldn’t resist.”

Your answering smile is small but bright against the dimness. “Guess you’re as good as you think you are.”

It takes effort to get the thing unrolled, his hands clumsy from the cold, but when he slides inside and you follow, the transformation is immediate. The warmth is subtle at first, a gentle pulse, then it swells—heat radiating back into his skin, into his bones. The violent trembling starts to ease, replaced by a slow, almost dizzy relief.

You let out a sight against his chest, your body going slack for the first time since the sun went down. “Better?”

“Much.” His voice is quieter now, softer, the urgency burned away by the new cocoon of warmth.

The bag is barely wide enough for one person, so the two of you are pressed together shoulder-to-ankle, your legs tangled, your breath mingling in the narrow space between your faces. He can feel your heartbeat against his ribs, strong and steady now that you’re not losing heat.

He tips his head to press his lips into your hairline, just for a second. “We keep this up,” he whispers, “and they’ll keep sending things. They’ll keep us alive.”

You him in quiet agreement, already sounding drowsy now that comfort has replaced the cold. “We just… have to keep playing the part.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say that maybe he’s not playing anymore. That maybe, lying here with you warm against him after thinking he might never feel warmth again, there’s no pretending left in him at all.

The watering hole is the kind of place that would’ve gone unnoticed if you and Jeonghan weren’t desperate, half-hidden by a low ridge of sun-baked rock, no bigger than a fishing boat back home. The water is brackish, dark, with a faint slick of green on the surface, but in the arena, it’s the closest thing to a blessing they’ll get.

Jeonghan spots it first, but it’s the tracks that keep him still. He crouches low, eyes tracing the deep indentations in the mud. Large paws, claws pressing deep into the earth, the edges still damp. He touches one, and the mud clings to his skin. Fresh.

Something was here—something alive.

He calls your name quietly, not loud enough to carry beyond the clearing. You appear between the brittle grass and scrub, hair clinging to your cheeks in the heat. He tilts his chin at the ground. “These weren’t here long ago.”

You follow his gaze, eyes narrowing. “Animal?”

“Probably. Might be food. Means there’s a water source, too.” He jerks his chin toward the hole. “We’ll fill up while we can, but—”

“I can set a snare,” you interrupt, already swinging your pack forward. “It might circle back.”

He watches you pull out the coil of rope you’ve been hoarding, your fingers already working without hesitation. He remembers you like this before the Games—knee-deep in fishing nets, fixing frayed cords in the shade of the docks, the tang of salt drying on your skin. Even now, the motions are sure, neat. You find the right branch to anchor the rope, measure the distance by sight, and work with a kind of confidence he could never fake.

While you work, Jeonghan kneels by the water, scooping it into the canteens. His reflection is just a blur beneath the rippling surface, but the way the sun’s setting, painting the world in deep reds and golds, makes his pulse quicken. Both of you shouldn’t be here when the light fades.

He’s about to say as much when the hairs on the back of his neck lift. A faint sound—not an animal’s scuffle, but the deliberate push of a foot through grass. He glances up, catches your eye. You’ve frozen too, your head turning toward the far treeline.

It happens fast.

The figure bursts from the brush, a flash of movement cutting through the golden light. For an instant, Jeonghan thinks it’s the animal—until the sunlight glints off a blade in their hand.

The stranger charged forward—and straight into your trap.

The rope snaps tight with a brutal, whiplash motion, yanking the figure’s feet off the ground. They hit the air hard, the cord biting into their throat. The sound that comes out is sharp and wet, choked off before it’s fully formed.

It takes Jeonghan half a second to understand.

Not an animal. A tribute.

Your eyes go wide, horror replacing the quick, focused sharpness from moments before. You lunge for the knot, fumbling at it with frantic, shaking hands. “Wait—wait—”

Jeonghan is already moving toward you, grabbing your shoulders and yanking you back. He can feel the tremor in your muscles through your shirt. “Stop—”

“She’s choking!”

“She’s already gone.” His voice is flat, but inside his chest, something twists.

The tribute’s face has gone mottled, her kicks slowing, hands clawing weakly at the cord before falling limp. The cannon that signifies a tribute’s death cracks through the air, deafening in the sudden stillness.

The body drops into the dirt with a dull, final sound.

District Eleven, Jeonghan recognises faintly.

You stand frozen for half a heartbeat before your knees give out, and Jeonghan’s there to catch you without thinking. Your breath comes ragged, wet-sounding, your hands curling into the dirt.

“I didn’t—” The words scrape out of your throat, breaking halfway. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” He keeps his grip steady on you, even though his own pulse is hammering hard enough to make his hands ache. “She was following us. You saw the knife.”

Your head shakes violently. “That’s not what I meant to—”

“You meant to keep us alive.” He doesn’t say it gently. Gentleness will only make it worse. “That’s what you did.”

The hovercraft’s shadow sweeps over the clearing, cold and sudden, blotting out the last of the sun.

You flinch when the claw descends, the metallic hiss cutting through the dry air. Jeonghan feels you stiffen against him, your breath hitching again. It’s quick—almost mercifully so—the steel fingers closing around the limp body, the slight lift before the hovercraft pulls away, vanishing back into the dim sky.

Now there’s nothing left of her. Just two sharp impressions in the dirt where her heels hit, the faint scrape where she’d kicked in panic, the rope still swaying from the branch like it’s mocking you.

Jeonghan takes it down. He doesn’t even think about it, just moves towards it and works at the knot until the rope comes loose. He winds it up, slowly, as if giving you time to get your breath under control. His fingers work methodically—loop, twist, tuck—like he’s fixing fishing lines back home. He doesn’t look at you while he does it.

When he finally finishes, you’re still crouched down, hands curled into fists in the dirt, your shoulders trembling.

“We can’t stay here,” he says, stepping closely.

You don’t answer. Your eyes are locked on the patch of ground where she’d fallen, unblinking. He doesn’t need to guess what’s going through your head—your first kill, and you didn’t even know her name. Didn’t know she was there until she was gone.

He crouches down beside you, close enough that your knees brush. “Listen to me.” His voice is low, steady, the way it gets when he’s coaxing you into a plan. “If you freeze now, you’ll die. And I’m not watching you die. So you’re going to stand up, and we’re going to keep moving.”

Your breath shudders, but still, you don’t move.

Jeonghan leans in until you have to look at him. The light is fading fast, shadows painting his face in sharp lines. “This wasn’t murder,” he says, and it’s not meant to comfort you—he’s simply stating it like a fact. “It was survival. If it wasn’t her in that trap, it would’ve been us in the hovercraft and someone else walking away.”

That finally pulls your eyes to his. They’re glassy, rimmed red, but still alert.

“Get up,” he says again, and this time he offers his hand.

Your fingers are cold when they slide into his, even with the heat still heavy in the air. He pulls you to your feet, steadying you when your knees falter.

It’s only when you’re well past the ridge, the last gleam of water out of sight, that he glances at you again. “She would’ve killed us,” he says, not accusing, just reminding. “Don’t forget that.”

The branches above creak with the first stirrings of wind. Night will come fast now, and with it, the cold. He can already feel the change in the air, the way the heat is bleeding out of the ground. He adjusts his grip in your wrist—light, but enough to guide you—and heads deeper into the undergrowth.

He knows you won’t forgive yourself tonight. Maybe not ever. But in the Capitol, they’ll twist this moment into a story. The first taste of blood for the star-crossed lovers from District Four. The snare that saved you both. The sponsors will eat it up.

And Jeonghan—who has always been better at lying to a crowd than to himself—will feed them every word they want to hear. Because every gift they send is another day you stay alive.

The heat hasn’t just become unbearable—it’s become a living thing.

It presses on Jeonghan’s skin with the weight of molten iron, searing every exposed inch, chasing sweat out of his body before it can even cool him. His hair is plastered to his neck, his breaths ragged and shallow, each inhale dragging grit into his lungs. His head feels too light and too heavy at the same time, tilting and lolling as though gravity keeps changing its mind about him.

The two of you have been moving in silence for hours—not because you want to, but because even something as simple as breathing feels like too much effort. The air itself tastes scorched. Every plant you pass is the same: brittle, twisted things that crumble if you touch them, offering nothing but dust. The roots you dig up are getting smaller and drier, the last meagre drops of water wrung from them days ago.

It’s when he stumbles for the third time in ten minutes that Jeonghan realises something is slipping in his head. The edges of his vision shimmer. His thoughts keep snagging, replaying the same moments without connection. He shakes his head to clear it, but that only makes the world sway.

He’s not in the arena anymore.

He’s back in District Four.

The sun here is warm, not lethal, filtered through a gauzy morning haze. Salt hangs thick in the air, the tide pulling at the docks with a lazy rhythm he’s known since birth. Ropes creak against wooden posts, gulls squabble over the guts of a fish someone’s tossed into the water. It’s home.

And you’re there.

Not the you of the arena—dust-streaked, dehydrated, haunted—but you in a faded linen dress, hair tangled by the sea breeze. You’re sitting on an overturned crate by the pier, bare feet swinging above the water. In your lap is a small boy with dark curls and your smile, clinging to a seashell. Beside you, a girl of maybe five—older, bold—has her hand wrapped firmly around your wrist.

The girl spots him first. “Papa!” she calls, her voice bright and sure. She barrels toward him, sand scattering under her feet, and he drops to his knees without thinking, catching her in his arms. She smells like sun and salt and something sweet he can’t name. The boy giggles from your lap, and you look at him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Jeonghan’s chest aches in a way that has nothing to do with thirst.

You rise, the boy balanced easily on your hip, and you smile at him, squinting against the sun, tired but content. “You’re late,” you say. “We saved breakfast for you.”

It’s perfect. There’s no fear, no Capitol, no arena. Just the dock, the smell of fish drying on racks, the sound of you humming softly to the boy in your arms.

“...something each tribute needs…”

The voice is faint, distant, like it’s coming from underwater. Jeonghan frowns, glancing over his shoulder. The gulls are gone. The water’s gone still.

“...waiting in the Cornucopia…” Caesar Flickerman’s voice, rich and warm in the way only a practiced liar can be.

The dock wavers. The children’s laughter stutters. He can still feel the girl’s weight in his arms, but his hands are empty now. The world ripples, distorts.

“...life or death… only for those willing to take it…”

The pier dissolves into baked, cracked earth. The sea breeze is gone, replaced by the taste of dust on his tongue. And you’re here, not smiling on the docks, but crouched in front of him, your hair stuck to your cheeks with sweat, eyes sharp with worry.

“Jeonghan,” you say. “Look at me.”

He realises belatedly that he’s swaying. You grip his arm hard enough to steady him, the pressure grounding him just enough to keep him upright.

“You’re burning up,” you mutter, already pulling him towards a meagre patch of shade cast by a cluster of stunted, thorny trees. The shadows they throw are thin and broken, but you push him down against the largest trunk anyway, dropping to your knees in front of him as you dig through your pack.

“There’s nothing left,” you say after a moment, your voice flat in that way it gets when you’re holding yourself together by will alone. “Not a drop.”

His lips stick when he tries to speak. “Cornucopia.”

“No,” you say immediately, shaking your head. “It’ll be a bloodbath.”

Jeonghan swallows, his throat working uselessly. “Caesar… said something for each tribute there.”

You don’t look away. “Medicine and water for you,” you say quietly.

The thought clicks in his head, even through the haze. Of course. The Capitol never misses a chance to bait a trap. They’ve been watching him stumble for hours. They’ve seen the way your eyes keep darting to him when you think the cameras can’t catch it. They’ll dangle what you need right in front of you—water, medicine, hope—and wait for you to come and fight for it.

Your hand is still braced on his shoulder. Your fingers twitch like you’re already weighing every possible risk, calculating every route in and out. “It will be a bloodbath,” you say again.

Jeonghan forces his eyes open. The hallucination is gone now, but its ghost still clings to him—the sound of the girl calling him Papa, the boy in your arms, your smile in the sunlight. It’s almost enough to make him want to close his eyes and go back, even knowing it isn’t real.

“They’ll expect us to hesitate,” he rasps. “We can’t.”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, and he thinks—hopes—that you understand he’s not just talking about the Cornucopia. You nod once, and the decision is made.

The Cornucopia looks like it’s breathing.

That’s the first thought that crosses Jeonghan’s mind as the two of you crest the ridge and the thing comes into view—its curved, metallic flanks swelling and shrinking in the heat haze, like a lung pulling air. He knows it’s not alive, but his brain isn’t right anymore. Hasn’t been right for days.

The heat bakes him hollow in the daytime, and the cold splinters him at night. His lips are cracked deep enough to sting with every breath, and his skin feels like parchment stretched over brittle bones. The lack of water has him floating somewhere between waking and sleep, reality and the sweet, impossible warmth of dreams.

He blinks hard, but the Cornucopia still wavers, glinting in the sun like it’s underwater. The ridge beneath his boots is loose and sandy, crumbling a little more with each step. His legs feel like they’ve been carved from driftwood—light in the wrong places, heavy in the wrong places—and every movement has a lag, like the heat has slowed the air between thought and action.

The smell here is wrong, too. No salt like home, no clean tang of fish nets drying on the dock. Just baked dust, iron from the blood long since spilled on this clearing, and the faint oily reek of the Cornucopia itself, shimmering at the arena’s heart.

You’re a step ahead of him, your figure wavering in his vision like a mirage. He’s half-convinced you’re going to disappear entirely if he blinks too long. His hand twitches towards you, but he doesn’t quite grab you.

It’s quieter than it should be. No wind. No rustle of trees—there aren’t any, not near the Cornucopia. Just the faint buzz of insects that have somehow survived the Games and the dry rasp of his own breath.

In the corners of his mind, where the hallucinations live, he hears voices. Light and airy, layered over the scene like a broadcast. Something each tribute needs is here, Caesar Flickerman’s tone says, faint but unmistakable. His smile is in it. Jeonghan hates how easily he can picture it.

His knees threaten to give out on the downhill slope, and for a few seconds he’s not in the arena at all—he’s back in District Four, barefoot on the weather-worn dock. You’re there too, your hair tucked back beneath a wide sunhat, your hands busy knotting rope while a little girl with your eyes clutches his leg and begs him to come look at the fish she’s caught.

The image is so sharp it makes his chest ache. He knows it’s not real, but his body wants to believe it more than it wants to breathe.

He shakes his head hard enough to make the world sway, trying to anchor himself back in the heat and the dust. His throat is so dry that when he swallows, it’s like grinding sand between his teeth.

The Cornucopia looms larger with each step, polished metal twisted into that great curling horn, its open mouth yawning before him. In the glare, he catches flashes of colour: packs, boxes, gleaming shapes that might be weapons. He knows the medicine has to be here. The thought drives him forward even when his body feels like it’s moving through syrup.

But there’s movement at the edges of the clearing. At first, he thinks it’s another hallucination—a ripple in the heat haze. Then it resolves into forms. Six of them, not human.

They’re shaped like dogs, but their gait is wrong, their legs too long, their heads stretched unnaturally. Their eyes catch the light in ways no dog’s should. They spread in a slow arc, herding, driving anyone who dares approach towards the Cornucopia’s centre.

Jeonghan’s skin prickles, but not from the heat. These muttations—mutts, the Capitol’s twisted genetically modified animals—aren’t meant to just kill. They’re meant to corner, to keep the tributes in sight. Somewhere beyond them, he can make out other shapes—moving, armed. The last of the competitors.

His vision flickers again, the scene tilting between here and there, now and then. He sees the Cornucopia, but he also sees the sunlit porch of a house he’s never owned, with you leaning in the doorway, smiling like the world’s not something you have to survive.

He blinks, and the mutts are still there. The smell of dust and metal is still in his nose. His mouth tastes of blood from where he’s bitten the inside of his cheek without noticing.

He knows he can’t last much longer. Every muscle in his body feels sluggish, but there’s no stopping—not with you ahead of him, not with medicine somewhere in that horn’s gleaming belly.

He finally reaches for your wrist.

When Jeonghan wakes, the first thing he notices is the absence of heat. No blistering sun peeling the moisture from his skin, no grit grinding between his teeth, no dry, burning air clawing at his throat. The world is cool now—cool in a way that feels almost unreal. There’s the faint scent of antiseptic in the air, clean and sharp, the low hum of unseen machinery, and a stillness that feels foreign after days of constant danger.

The second thing he notices is the texture under him. Sheets. Smooth, almost slippery, nothing like the scratch of tarp or the roughness of the sleeping bag. His body sinks into something soft enough to cradle his battered frame, and for a moment, he wonders if this is the afterlife the Capitol tells children about: painless, cold, and white.

The third thing is the weight. Not heavy, but present, warm and familiar. He tilts his head and finds you sprawled over his chest, cheek pressed against his chest where his heartbeat thuds. One of your hands is curled in the thin cotton just over his ribs, knuckles pale, as though you’ve been holding on for days and couldn’t bring yourself to let go—not even now.

The quiet is strange. For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no cannon, no rustle of pursuit, no metallic screech of mutts, no ragged rasp of his own breath while the world tilts and darkens around him. Just the low mechanical hum, and you.

He’s still trying to reconcile the stillness with the last thing he remembers—your voice shouting in his ear, the press of your hands forcing something bitter down his throat, the taste of blood in his mouth—when a voice interrupts his thoughts.

“I’d recommend you not move too much, Mr. Yoon. You’re still recovering.”

Jeonghan turns his head toward the sound. A man in a Capitol-white coat stands beside a wall-length counter, a slim data pad in his hand, posture crisp. His hair gleams under the sterile lighting, combed so precisely it looks painted on, and his smile is small and practiced—an expression honed for delivering both good and bad news without betraying opinion.

Jeonghan’s throat is a ruin, dry and sore, but he forces a rasp of sound. “...Where…?”

“You’re back at the Capitol,” the man answers, eyes flicking down to scan something on his pad before looking back. “You’ve been here for a little over twenty-four hours. You were brought in directly from the arena. Severe dehydration, acute heatstroke, and an electrolyte imbalance that left you moments away from full systemic collapse.”

The words sit heavy in Jeonghan’s ears, slow to take root. He blinks once, twice, letting the sterile white walls and the soft give of the mattress anchor him. His brain feels fogged, but one thing cuts through—your weight still draped over him like a shield that hasn’t yet been lowered.

The doctor notices where his gaze goes. “Your… partner,” he says, with just the faintest tilt of his lips, “refused to leave your side. Even when our retrieval team attempted to separate you for treatment.”

Something in Jeonghan’s chest shifts. He imagines it easily: you, jaw set, eyes fierce, body angled in front of his.

“In fact,” the doctor continues, lowering his tone just slightly, “your survival was not guaranteed. By the time you reached the Cornucopia the four remaining tributes had already fallen. She retrieved the medicine kit, but when you collapsed, she…” The man pauses, as if searching for the right phrasing. “She made it clear to the cameras, and therefore to all of Panem, that if you were not brought back alive, she would end her own life before crossing the finish line.”

The images come to him in flashes—your body bending over his, your voice pitched low but steady. He can almost hear the Capitol commentators, their tones threaded with mockery and delight.

“Protocl,” the doctor goes on, “would have declared her the victor immediately. But with the muttations still active, the closing minutes still being broadcast, and the… unfortunate optics of losing our last tribute live on-air, the decision was made to retrieve you both. She refused to relinquish the medicine until you were stabilised. Against precedent, you were both declared victors.”

The word victors lands oddly in Jeonghan’s mind. It feels like something sharp and hollow, not like triumph.

The doctor glances briefly at the monitors beside the bed, then back to him. “A romantic ending, Mr. Yoon. One the audience adored. Two tributes surviving against impossible odds—because of each other. The Capitol will celebrate it for years.”

Jeonghan doesn’t answer. He doesn’t trust his voice not to crack under the weight of too many truths at once. He keeps his eyes on you instead—the way your breathing is slow but steady, the way your hair shifts slightly with each rise and fall of his chest. His hand lifts, sluggish, until it covers yours.

You stir faintly at the contact, your fingers curling instinctively tighter in the fabric of his gown, but you don’t wake. It’s as if some part of you is still in the arena, unwilling to let him go out of reach.

The doctor speaks again, almost as an afterthought. “You’ll remain under observation for several days. After that, the preparations for the Victory Tour will begin. I suggest you rest while you can. The Capitol loves a love story—but they’ll want to see you both play it to the end.”

“It’s not pretend,” Jeonghan says, raspy and hoarse, but the doctor walks away before he hears it.

It’s not hard to amp up the romance for the Capitol—it was never hard, Jeonghan thinks. He likes being close to you, craves your skin and your touch even more now that he’s survived the worst possible thing anyone could have gone through. The Capitol learned to drink the romance even more; it was a performance he’d grown good at and, secretly, loved.

It takes three years for the rebellion to die down, but when it does, you and Jeonghan step off a slow transport and smell salt and real air and home.

District Four is smaller now in the best possible way: a house with a sagging porch, nets drying on a line, mornings that begin with coffee and the sea and the low, ordinary, mundane tasks he missed out on for three years. The two of you cook the fish you pull in, argue over how to mend a torn net, laugh until your stomachs hurt. Jeonghan wakes to your shoulder warm against his chest; you wake to him brewing tea and whistling badly. Evenings are for wandering the pier hand-in-hand, for kissing until the sky goes ink-deep and the lights of the Capitol are a distant, ridiculous memory.

He knows you well now, knows you better than he did before the Hunger Games. He gets to do things like kiss the softness of your stomach where no one else has ever before, hear you whisper his name into his ear while his fingers curl in that one spot that makes you quiver. He can call you his, wholly and fully, and know that the hallucinations he had while dehydrated and half out of his mind back at that godforsaken arena can be more than just images his ailing mind conjured up. He can hold you in his arms, and smooth back your hair, and kiss the tips of your fingers simply because he wants to.

Sometimes, the nightmares take you; your body jolts and you retch into the bucket you keep by the bed and Jeonghan knots your hair back murmurs nonsense into your ear until the bile is gone and the tremors fade. Sometimes they take him; he stares into the dark and sees the Cornucopia swell and the mutts’ eyes gleam, and you whisper silly things to drag him back. There is a language of touch between you now, an index of pressure and pause. Fingers that squeeze to stop a panic, a palm pressed flat to a back to anchor, foreheads rested against each other to count the breaths you take.

Somehow, despite it all, Jeonghan thinks maybe the odds really were in his favour.

#jeonghan fic rec #fav

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ts19009 · 6 days ago

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IM SO READY

Birdie (teaser)

ᯓ★ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It would be fate that you would be filming a documentary of the same F1 team as your former high school sweetheart: Joshua Hong, F1 golden boy. He still remembers you as Birdie— the one that flew away without saying goodbye. Now, years later, you have to look him in the eye as he recounts what his life has been like without you.

ᯓ★ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: f1 driver!Joshua Hong x filmmaker!reader

ᯓ★ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, middleschool sweethearts, lovers to exes, F1 (smut and additional aus will be listed in the full fic)

ᯓ★ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none for the teaser

ᯓ★ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 869 for the teaser, 10K+ on the full fic

ᯓ★ 𝐀𝐍: This fic is for the collab "It's Light Out", hosted by @camandemstudios. If you would like to sign up for the taglist for this story (and others in the collab), sign up here.

The track winds around the Hard Rock Stadium; you literally couldn’t miss it. You filmed a few shots with Wonwoo around the track, the aqua blue surrounding it fitting the whole Miami vibe: palm trees and sunny skies, a clear contrast from where you and Joshua grew up.

“Did we get everything here?” Wonwoo asks, lowering his camera.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, glancing around the track. “Mr. Hong should be heading to the media room like his assistant said.”

“Why do you keep calling Joshua ‘Mr. Hong?” Wonwoo chuckles, a teasing glint in his eyes. “It’s so formal and stuffy. Relax a little.”

“Pfft, I am relaxed,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. “We aren’t exactly friends, you know.”

If only Wonwoo knew why you were keeping it professional, why you’ve been trying your hardest to keep your distance.

“Sure,” he raises an eyebrow, a skeptical smile on his lips. “One day, you’ll tell me why you’re acting all cagey.”

Wonwoo has this uncanny ability to read people well, and you wish, at this very moment, you could turn it off. He’s been your right-hand man since you’ve been with this company. You work well together and consider him a close friend.

“I am not acting cagey!” you huff. “We’re done here. Let’s go get some film in the garage and then meet Mr. Hong after .” You leave no room for debate, and Wonwoo doesn’t press it further.

You offer to help Wonwoo with the equipment, but he shakes his head, motioning for you to go ahead without him. As you scan your surroundings, your eyes wander aimlessly until they settle on the row of garages, each numbered from 1 to 36. Small beads of sweat form on your forehead as Florida's humid weather makes you instantly regret wearing anything but white. The air is thick and heavy, adding to your discomfort as you navigate through the scene.

“Garage number #17… where are you—”

Your breath falters, forcing you to a complete stop. There he was, your former high school sweetheart, no longer the scrawny kid you were madly in love with. He’s taller, more handsome, with broader shoulders, and sports a black undercut that suits this new man he’s become. You stand there for a moment, studying him in awe as he talks to his teammates, Lee Jihoon and Lee Chan, two equally attractive men who lean against the table as they engage in a deep conversation.

You involuntarily shift your leg, making your presence known earlier than you would’ve liked. Fuck.

“S-sorry,” you sputter, your nerves getting the best of you. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“No, no, it’s fine. We were finishing up anyway,” Jihoon says, dusting the back of his pants. “You’re—”

“Birdie.”

Hearing your childhood nickname from Joshua’s lips brings chills throughout your body. You remember when he gave you that nickname in elementary school when you claimed during recess that you could fly and jumped off a tree. Needless to say, you did not fly; instead, you ended up with a fractured wrist and a bruised ego. But Joshua was impressed anyway, saying you were trying to leave your nest and soar like the pretty bird you were. You were his pretty bird.

“Hi, Joshua,” you say slowly. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has.”

You can hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed, how well you have progressed in your respective careers, or how well he masks it; the hurt and pain are still there. It’s unmistakable.

“Birdie?” Wonwoo’s voice creeps up behind you.

“Yeah,” Joshua smiles. “It was a nickname I gave her when we were kids. She loved to spread her wings and fly, be damned who she left behind.”

You still, detecting the venom wrapped in his seemingly nice statement. Maybe you deserve that.

“Okay, then,” Jihoon speaks up, dissipating the thickening tension that was starting to take over. “I will leave you to it.”

He claps his hands together and leaves with Chan, nodding to you and Wonwoo before exiting the garage. You turn to Wonwoo, who returns your gaze with raised eyebrows, your face heating with embarrassment. You didn’t expect Joshua to welcome you with open arms, but you have never experienced him being… mean, especially to you.

“I was told that I could meet you at the media room,” You gesture towards the garage. “We were just going to get some quick films before we met with you.”

Being near him again made you anxious; your already sweaty hands getting clammier by the minute. The way his eyes peered into your soul made you uncomfortable, like he was reading the deepest parts of your mind and trying to uncover your secrets.

“I’ll meet you there,” Joshua announces, walking off before you can respond with a simple “okay.”

You glance over at Wonwoo, who gives you a subtle, sympathetic smile. “You good?” he mouths.

You nod stiffly, rubbing your temples. He didn’t check to see if you were coming; despite it being a record-high day in temperature, the iciness in his interaction made it clear: Joshua Hong absolutely hates your guts.

If you would like to sign up for the taglist for this story (and others in the collab), sign up here.

#joshua fic rec

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ts19009 · 8 days ago

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Simp mingyu is a cannon event for every mingyu writer.

BETWEEN US - KIM MINGYU

IN WHICH after a toxic relationship, all you want to do is distance yourself from any romantic interactions for the rest of your life, but your best friends refuse to let that happen and decide to find a nice guy for you that could prove you love isn’t always just toxic. But he has his own plans, and doesn’t care if you end up believing in love again or not. All he wants to do is make his ex jealous so they could get back together, and you are his way to do that, nothing more. Or so he tries to convince himself.

pairing ↣ kim mingyu x fem!reader

genre ↣ fluff, smut, angst

contains ↣ cook!mingyu, nanny!reader, student!reader, fake dating, toxic exes, alcohol consumption, reader's appearance described (glasses, wavy hair, short), comparison (from others and yourself) + small insecurities, mentions of past abuse, misunderstanding, reader in her early 20s and mingyu in his late 20s, petnames/nicknames,

featuring svt members, daniela (katseye), original characters

warnings SMUT, thigh riding, breast play, fingering (in a public space), unprotected sex (not in public anymore), oral (f. rec.), dirty talk ig

word count 44k

playlist

↪ izzy adds... And finally, another baby of mine can see the world! I was so excited to write this story and everyone I talked to about this can confirm it. I'd like to send a big thank you to @filmsbyun, for writing with me and cheering me on on this journey. She was always excited whenever I sent her a snippet and it made me so happy. A huge thank you to @heejamas as well, who also makes an appearance in this story. Thank you for letting me yap to you about it <3 I appreciate every feedback and thoughts you guys have so don't hesitate sharing with me please. My inbox is open if you want to talk about between us (or anything else) as well :3

The café just around the corner of your apartment has always been your usual hang out spot for you and your friends. Today wasn’t any different. You sit at ‘your’ table, sipping on your vanilla latte and listening to what Seokmin had to say.

“It feels like forever since I had a main role,” he says, still shocked by the news. He found out he got the lead role barely minutes ago and called you all to meet immediately. He hasn’t stopped talking about how amazing Hadestown was and that it was going to be the best play of his life ever since you sat down. You didn’t mind, you were happy for him, and proud that he got the role he’s been working so hard for, but you’re not sure how much more theater talk you can handle today.

“How about your co-star? Do you know who that’ll be yet?” Your best friend Sujin asks immediately and you swear you see Seokmin’s eyes sparkle. He averts his eyes for a second which is a mistake because Sujin notices immediately. “Oh my god! Is she famous? Or pretty? Do you like her?”

Seokmin awkwardly shakes his hands in the air to calm her down, looking over to Joshua for some sort of help. He just shrugs, though, intrigued as he sips on his iced americano. “She is…” he trails off, only adding into the fire as Sujin encourages him to share with you all. “Okay, yeah, she is beautiful,” he admits, looking around the place as if she could be hiding behind any of the other tables. “And super talented. We met at the auditions and I was in awe after seeing her practice in the hallway. I can’t even imagine what it looked like when she came in for the actual thing. She must have blown them off.”

Sujin giggles, teasing him without a second of hesitation. You watch her eyes trail to your figure as soon as Joshua and Seokmin find their own topic of conversation and you already know whatever she’s about to ask isn’t going to be any good. “Have you been seeing anyone lately? Hm?”

Of course. What else did you even expect? “Have not,” you say, praying that for once, she will just drop it and move on to something else. But that wouldn’t be Sujin. And so, the complete opposite of what you wish for happens. “I thought so! You know, I know this guy—he is perfect for you! He is friendly, caring, and just a big sweetheart.”

“I already told you I’m not dating again,” you state but she only gives you one of her knowing looks. “You can’t close yourself off to all guys because of one bad experience.”

“I’m not. There’s three guys around me right now if you haven’t noticed.”

It’s been over a year since you went on a date with anyone. Over a year since you ended your first and last relationship and promised yourself you wouldn’t fall into the trap again. You cut off all guys you knew, except for those around you right now. It was impossible.

You tried distancing yourself, always finding excuses when Seokmin or Joshua asked you to hang out, no matter if they wanted to do a big thing with all your other friends as well or just wanted to meet you alone. You couldn’t look at them without Chun appearing in your head, the one guy you trusted with your whole life and repeatedly disappointed you.

It worked for maybe two weeks before they came over to your apartment and convinced you to hang out with them. You spent that night on the floor of your living room, playing monopoly and slowly warming yourself up to them again. Seokmin helped you get over the pain your relationship caused with his laugh, always reminding you that you weren’t alone for this and there were people you could turn to, while Joshua played music for you and quietly offered his help when no one else was looking.

They both made you laugh and forget about things, which you’ll be forever grateful to them for.

“If I hear you say he is perfect one more time I am going to pack my things and leave,” Chan proclaims, completely serious as he glares at his girlfriend, your best friend.

Chan is the third boy you kept in your life, unable to cut him off even if you wanted to. Avoiding him would mean avoiding Sujin, and even though she was sometimes a pain in your ass, she was your dearest friend and stood by you your entire life, no matter what trouble you got into. You were convinced she’d help you hide a body if it came to it, and it wouldn’t surprise you if Chan joined in as well.

You accepted that you couldn’t avoid every guy for the rest of your life, especially not if they were your friends. You haven’t made any new friends, though. You averted your eyes, started talking to your friends, and hoped for the best every time you saw a guy approaching you, even went as far and stopped smiling at them just to ensure they wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

To some it might seem sad, that you were fucking up your own chances of being happy, but it actually helped you. Thanks to it, you managed to fall into the rhythm of your everyday life again without worrying if Chun was going to appear behind a corner and yell at you again, or if the guy that just smiled at you from across the café was going to turn out into an asshole just like the last one. It felt good now, not having to constantly be in fear because of a stupid boy.

“But he is perfect, come on, you know him. Mingyu is super nice. He’s gotten out of a bad relationship a month ago as well and I promised him I know someone perfect for him.”

“That someone perfect for him isn’t me, right?” You hang onto the last bit of hope you have left even though you know her answer. She smiles at you and you sigh. “Su, I’m not going on a date and you know why.”

Chan tries to calm her down, holding her hand under the table and whispering to her to let it go and order a dessert, but she doesn’t back down, listing all the good qualities this friend of hers has. You let her talk, too tired to argue any more. You sit quietly as she tries to convince you to go on a date with him, finally interrupting her when she starts talking about how tall he is and how big his hands are.

“Okay, we get it!” you blurt out, your cheeks red. “Will you shut up if I agree?” She grins, clapping her hands happily and completely ignoring the glare her boyfriend sends her way after having to listen to how big his friend’s hands are as if he wasn’t right there. Sujin leans closer to him and whispers something in his ear that makes him blush and you’re glad you weren’t able to hear it.

“Okay, I’m going to pick out my dessert since Chan said he’s paying but this isn’t the end of our conversation. I’ll talk to him and let you know,” she assures you and you nod, knowing that she will. As soon as she is on her feet and walking away from the table, Seokmin and Joshua look at you, questioning if you’re really up for this.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m doing this just to make her happy.”

“You know you don’t have to do things just to make her happy, though, right?” Chan asks and you sigh. “Yes, I know. But I also know she is doing this because she wants me to be happy, so what can I do?” You shake your head slightly, watching the three boys exchange a look. “How about this, I’ll go through with this date and then never go on one again, hm? I’ll tell Sujin not to set me up with anyone and the discussion will be over.”

“You’re free to do whatever,” Joshua assures you. “You can go on dates if that’s what you want. We just don’t want you to be forcing yourself into something you’re not ready for yet.”

You smile, promising you won’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable. “Besides, I’m serious. One date and then I’m done. I’m not going to see the guy again or anyone else. I don’t think I’d be able to even if I wanted to.”

The guys exchange a look again and you feel like shrinking into your seat. You hate that they feel the need to be so careful around you, always rethinking what they’re going to say, too scared to do something wrong or just tell you what they’re really thinking.

That’s why you love Sujin so much. Ever since you met her back in middle school, she was always honest with you—sometimes too much. She didn’t make you feel like you were fragile, not even when you finally came clean with everything that was happening with Chun and she held you in a tight hug. Not because you would be weak, but because she had to ground herself somehow not to run to him immediately and kill him without any hesitation.

“If it makes it any better, Mingyu truly is a wonderful guy,” Chan smiles at you. “I think you two could be good friends, so don’t lock your doors from him, yeah?” You smile back, nodding. “I can’t promise you anything but…” you stop, just looking at the three boys in front of you for a second. “I’ll try to have fun.”

♡⸝⸝

You knew that the moment you agreed to a date your friends might go a little crazy from excitement, but you hadn’t expected Sujin to call Daniela immediately and “tell her the good news.” You also hadn’t expected for her to plan your date right for the next day.

You thought you’d have time to mentally prepare yourself and maybe ask her more about this Mingyu guy, but all you got was a quick message with a restaurant address and that he already reserved a spot for you two for seven pm. And of course—Sujin sent the info to your group chat, just to make sure everyone knew.

So, naturally, both of your girl friends showed up at your apartment at five sharp, claiming they have to help you get ready.

“This dude is a walking thirst trap,” Daniala comments, unable to take her eyes off the screen as she scrolls through his instagram that she begged Sujin so desperately for. Your eyes widen and you glare at your best friend immediately. “Didn’t you say he was the nicest guy you know?”

“He is!” She assures you immediately. “He has a big heart.”

“Yes, I can see that clearly,” Dani nods, a soft laugh escaping her lips. You roll your eyes, walking away from your wide opened closet and sitting right beside Dani, looking over her shoulder. She offers you her phone as soon as you do, your eyes scanning a few of his posts.

Oh, yeah, he is a walking thirst trap.

“I’m not even surprised his most liked picture is the one where he’s shirtless,” Dani scoffs but she still watches his posts as you scroll through them. You don’t hover on any of them for too long but you see the vision—he is handsome. He seems tall, tan skin with a nice smile and biceps your ex could only dream of. He was attractive, yes, but that didn’t mean your view on him—or guys in general—was going to change. One date. That’s what he gets before you go living your life again.

“So? What do you think?” Sujin wiggles her eyebrows with a teasing grin as she watches you, still standing in front of your closet. You shrug, handing Dani her phone back and telling her to stop stalking him before standing back up. “He’s just a guy.” Sujin frowns as if you just crushed her whole dream but you don’t pay it any attention, looking through your clothes again.

You’re not sure what the appropriate wear is. You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard to impress him but you know the girls won’t let you go out in anything casual. “This is cute,” Sujin points out, taking out a light blue sundress. “Oh, yes! Absolutely.” Dani agrees immediately. “I’d date you immediately if you came to our date dressed like that and I’m straight.”

You shake your head at her, glancing between the two girls and the dress Sujin took out of your closet. It is pretty, and you do like wearing it, so why not? “Alright,” you nod, and Sujin claps happily. “He is absolutely going to fall in love with you when he sees it.”

You roll your eyes. “And if he doesn’t, you’re not going to try to find anyone else for me, understood?”

“I can’t promise anything,” she teases, taking a seat beside Daniela.

“Sujin.” You warn.

“Alright, okay, I’ll try to stay out of it,” she nods, tugging her dark brown hair behind her ears. “But please, give him a chance,” she begs, making Dani scoff. When Sujin glares at her she looks down at her phone again, searching for a playlist to play while you get ready. “I can’t promise anything,” you stick out your tongue at her, both of you giggling as you look at the dress again.

Okay, yeah, you can do this. You can go on one date.

♡⸝⸝

You take a taxi to the restaurant despite both of your friends offering to drive you. You’ll let them pick you up, though. You don’t want to be paying for a taxi twice in one day, especially not with the pricing. But you couldn’t sit through an entire ride with them right now. It’d only make you more nervous.

You step out of the car and look down at your outfit again, double checking if it looks good or you should just turn around and not show up. As if on cue, Sujin sends you a picture of her and Dani on your bed at the same time, titled “we’ll be waiting for updates.” You sigh, reminding yourself it’s just a meaningless date and you won’t have to see the guy again before your feet take you inside the restaurant.

You catch Mingyu in one of the window booths immediately after walking in, taking one last deep breath before walking over, awkwardly stopping at the edge of the table. “Hi,” you greet him, the grip on your handbag tightening as you try to ground yourself. His eyes trail up from his phone to your figure, a warm smile spreading across his lips as he takes the sight of you in. “Hey.”

He stands up to pull your chair but stops himself in time when he realizes it’s not a chair but a booth seat, awkwardly sliding back into his place. You quickly scan his figure when he gives you the chance, your eyes lingering a little too long on the slightly unbuttoned black polo shirt. Walking thirst trap wasn’t good enough. With his slightly messy black hair that somehow looked put-together and piercing gaze, he was much worse.

You place your handbag beside you and he moves his phone away, glancing at one of the serves before focusing his attention back on you. “I’m Mingyu,” he reaches his hand out. You tell him your name as well even though you’d hope Sujin’d tell him as much, shaking his hand. “Please, talk to me comfortably.”

“I’ll try,” you nod slightly, retreating your hand to your side of the table. “What are you getting?” You wonder, avoiding eye contact as you focus on the menu in front of you. “Just a soda. I’m driving.” You nod. “But the champagne here is really good,” he suggests. “If that’s what you like.”

“Yeah, I do. How about food?”

“The yuzu fried chicken,” he points at the dish on your menu before you can even try to search for it with your eyes. “It’s really good, the best dish I’d dare to say,” he laughs softly and you look up to meet his eyes, just watching him for a second. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll get the same.”

The conversation falls into silence, much more awkward than you anticipated. You open your mouth to say something but no words come out, so you just stay sitting still until the waiter comes to pick up your order.

You look around the restaurant, smiling at the decoration. It’s not anything too fancy or elegant, but it feels like home. It focuses on warmth and comfort, which you appreciate. “How did you get a reservation here so last minute?” You meet his eyes again, seeing him already looking at you. You swallow a lump in your throat, somehow feeling nervous under his gaze.

“I know people,” he shrugs with a smile, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. “I work here. Sujin hasn’t told you that?”

You blink, shaking your head. “No, I- I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

Mingyu tilts his head, “why are you apologizing?”

Your eyes widen for a split second, wanting to disappear more than ever. You shake your head, pushing back another apology when it hangs at the tip of your tongue. He seems to notice how uncomfortable you are because he changes the topic right away, telling you about the restaurant employees.

Before the food arrives, you know that your server is called Minjoon and always comes to work late because he is in the middle of a divorce and needs to take care of his son alone. You note to give him a good tip once you’re paying.

“I can’t fire him even when deep down I know I need to do something,” Mingyu sighs. “I started coming here on days I don’t work just in case Minjoon would run late and the other servers couldn’t cover it.”

“You can give him my number,” you blurt out. “What?” He narrows his eyes on you and you feel embarrassed again. “I mean– I babysit. I could help. Obviously I can’t look after his son all the time but if I can help at least sometimes I’m sure it’d help you and the restaurant too.” Mingyu’s questioning gaze turns into a soft smile as you talk. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need,” you shake your head, staring into your lap, your cheeks red. You’re not sure why. You keep reminding yourself he is just a guy and this is the last time you’re meeting him, but every time you meet his eyes or see him listening so eagerly to you, you start to understand why Sujin wanted you to go out with him. He is everything you didn’t have in your previous relationship—gentle, genuine, a good listener.

You sit in silence again as your server brings you the food but this time, it’s not as uncomfortable.

Mingyu watches you quietly, eyes lingering for a moment too long as if to try and memorize every detail. The soft strands of hair that frame your face, the round glasses perched on your nose, and even your short nails. He knows it’s wrong, that he should snap out of his thoughts and stop but he can’t help it, unconsciously comparing you with the girl still on his mind.

You and Haeun are opposite in every way. While your hair falls in gentle waves, hers was pin-straight, perfectly kept. You wear glasses without shame, which she was never able to do, always wearing contacts and claiming glasses ruined her appearance. Your features are soft, cute, nails bare, natural. Haeun never left the house without her nails done, makeup precise, and dressed up. He always teased her about that.

He can’t say you’re ugly, he wouldn’t dare to. But you’re not her. And no matter how much time passes, no one compares to Haeun in his eyes.

“So,” Mingyu starts as he swallows his first bite. “What else should I know about you,” your full name leaves his lips, making your eyes widen. “Except for the fact you’re not going to call me again after I pay for our food and we part ways, of course.” You blink confusedly, your mouth slightly opened as you think over what you’re supposed to say. “I– I’m sorry?” You question.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes another bite. “I’m not stupid. It’s obvious you’re here just because Sujin made you. And that’s fine,” he assures you. “I don’t know your reason and don’t need to, that’s up to you, but we can still have fun—no plain promises or pretending.” You swallow a lump in your throat, nodding. You don’t feel as pressured as before, slowly falling into a rhythm with him. “Okay.”

Mingyu smiles again, nodding.

You avert your eyes for a second again, rethinking your words. “Well, for starters I’m a university student. Early childhood education. And I babysit in my free time, like you already know.”

There’s another difference. Haeun hated kids. She told him she wouldn’t be able to raise them even if he wanted to, which he accepted after a while. But you wanted to raise them for living—a fact he deep down adored.

“That’s cool,” he nods. “I was a STEM major. Finished my studies, built a restaurant and ended up as a chef,” he chuckles softly, seeing the absurdity. “Really? Don’t you miss it?” You wonder, covering your mouth with your hand as you chew on your food. “I mean, those are like the polar opposites.”

“That’s true,” he agrees. “But I enjoy being in the kitchen. I might not be a scientist or an engineer now, but I’m my own boss and I can do what I like so I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

“I see,” you nod, unsure of what to say. It’s incredible. You always admired all the STEM majors, a bit jealous of their abilities and skills, but what was even cooler was the way he followed his dream despite studying something different.

“I also like dogs,” you blurt out without a second thought when he doesn’t say anything else. You feel your voice shrink under his gaze, nervous. You stare into his eyes for what feels like hours—even though it’s probably not even a full second—before clearing your throat and looking down into your lap. You close your eyes, hoping he isn’t watching you so intensively anymore. You want to run from him and the stupid eye contact. “For real?”

His words are as gentle as ever, and when you raise your head again, you notice the warm smile on his face. This is okay. He doesn’t expect anything from you and you don’t expect anything from him. It’s fine, you remind yourself. “I grew up with a dog,” you nod. His grin widens if that’s even possible, “I love dogs.”

Haeun hates dogs, he reminds himself. She is more of a bunny person.

♡⸝⸝

“Do you have a ride?” Mingyu wonders as he hands Minjoon his card before you can even try to stop him. “Oh, right, I need to call Sujin,” you mumble, quickly unlocking your phone. “Wait, don’t call her. I can drive you back,” he interrupts your movements, taking his card back and hiding it in his wallet. “You don’t have to,” you wave your hands in the air awkwardly. “I want to,” he assures you and you close your mouth again, every argument you wanted to say staying in the back of your throat.

You sit in the passenger seat, looking out of the window at the night sky, watching the stars above you. You open your phone to take a quick picture, ignoring the feeling of his eyes on you. There are a few messages from Sujin and Dani, informing you that they are watching a movie on your TV, waiting for you to come back. To anyone else, this could seem weird, that they shouldn’t be in your apartment when you aren’t home, but it is your normal.

You knew both girls for longer than not and Sujin owns a spare key to your apartment. Honestly, you might find it weird if they weren’t in your apartment right now. Sujin definitely couldn’t wait to ask you everything about your date, and what quicker way to do that than to be there when you come home?

Mingyu parks his car in front of your apartment building and you smile, a soft thank you escaping your lips as you step out. You’re not sure if you should say anything else, but before you can dwell on it, you close the car door and turn on your heel, pushing aside the regret you feel deep down.

He hesitates, cursing at himself quietly before he rolls down his window. “Wait, can we talk about something before you leave?” You turn to face him again, watching him through the car window before nodding, unsure of what to expect. If there was something he wanted to talk about why didn’t he do so in the car? You didn’t mind the quiet, but you also wouldn’t have minded if he filled it with conversation.

He steps out and walks over to you, leaning against his car, his arms folded under his chest as he stares into the ground, rethinking his words. You walk closer to him, stopping close enough to hear him but still keeping space between you.

“What is it?” You ask nervously. He meets your eyes carefully, trying to read you before the words leave his mouth. “You don’t believe Sujin will leave you alone just because you went on one date, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You narrow your eyes, confused. He sighs, “Well, do you think she won’t try to set you up again? Do you think she’ll give up?”

“No, I don’t think she will stop trying. But I’m not going on any more from now on. That’s what I told her, too,” you answer and he nods slightly. “Well, what if I have a way for you to not have to do that?”

“What are you talking about, Mingyu?”

Mingyu hesitates, his big eyes watching you, and for the first time that night, you see him as something else than the confident grown up who has it all figured out. He just looks like a cute little puppy stuck in a big boy body.

“Let’s date,” he suggests finally, making your head go blank. You blink, trying to figure out this stupid joke. As soon as you realize he isn’t joking, your eyes widen. “What?”

“Let’s date,” he repeats. He knows he sounds stupid. You had known each other for bare hours, and he knew neither of you could say there was some crazy spark, but his intentions are pure. “Let’s pretend to date,” he finally says.

“Okay, once again, what?”

He watches your confused face, your lips slightly parted and hands crossed in front of your chest as you try to read him. “Let me be honest for a second. Can I do that?” You nod, not saying anything as you wait for him to explain himself further. “I know this was supposed to be a date and that Sujin probably planted me as this awesome guy who is looking for a healthy relationship but I already have a girl I love and I can’t just let go of her.”

“We’ve broken up little over a month ago and Sujin has been on my back ever since, telling me how happy she was for me to finally get rid of her and that I could now find something real but,” he kicks a small rock under his feet, unable to meet your eyes. He knows it’s embarrassing, being hung up on Haeun even after she broke up with him, but he can’t get over her, no matter how hard he tries. “I don’t think I’m able to do that. She was… we dated for three years and I kept hearing from my friends how bad she was for me and all but she made me happy. Isn’t that what a relationship is supposed to be about? Making each other happy and better?” He meets your eyes and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

You thought the same. You kept excusing Chun and turning a blind eye at his behaviour until it destroyed you. You didn’t know what to do with yourself after the breakup, and even though you knew it was toxic—that he was toxic—you missed him for weeks.

Mingyu was now going through the same, and even though you wanted to tell him it’ll get better and that he’ll learn to live without her eventually, you can’t bring yourself to it.

So instead, you tug your hair behind your ear and cross your hands over your chest again, protecting yourself from the cold. “Okay, what do you have in mind? How would this work?”

He sighs in relief, his nervousness slowly washing off as he tells you how you two could work, and the benefits of your agreement. Not only would his presence keep Sujin off your back, but it could also keep other unwanted guys from your life and give you an excuse when someone hits on you. It was exactly what you wanted the most in the past year—freedom.

“Okay,” you nod when he finishes and you swear you see a spark in his eyes. “Okay?” You chuckle, nodding. “I don’t see a reason not to. But, we need to take it slow. They’re not going to believe I changed my whole perspective on dating after a dinner with you. I know you’re charming and all but–”

“I get it,” he interrupts you. “We can take it as slow as you want,” he assures you, taking a step forward and taking out his phone. “We can start by you actually giving me your number.”

As you take the phone from him and your fingers brush his, he notices you shivering, quickly moving past you to get into the backseat of his car. You type your number in and watch him confusedly, your eyes widening when he hands you a hoodie.

“I wouldn’t want you to freeze here because I kept you outside,” he says casually, prompting you to put it on. You do, watching the hoodie swallow your whole, questioning how it’s even possible for it to be so big. Gosh, it’s huge. “Plus, it’s a good start, don’t you think so?” You nod slowly. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head, telling you not to worry about it. You both linger for a bit longer before you finally take a step from the car, smiling at him softly. “I’ll see you around then.”

“See you around,” he smiles, watching you walk away before sliding back into the car.

♡⸝⸝

The teasing starts as soon as you walk through the door, and even though you expected it, you’re still not sure what to do. You try to act casual as you walk into your living room, placing your handbag on the table and ignoring your friends’ piercing gazes.

It only works until you hear Sujin whistle and all your composure disappears, the feeling of them being able to see right through you creeping up your back. “Looks like someone had fun,” she grins and your eyes wander to the movie playing on your TV. Sixteen candles. You haven’t seen that one in what feels like ages. You meet her eyes, embarrassed. “It was okay,” you say simply, sitting beside Dani on the couch. “Just okay? I know damn well that hoodie isn’t yours,” she points out and you instinctively look down on the piece of clothing. “I was cold,” you shrug, your eyes lingering on it a bit longer until you meet Sujin’s eyes again.

“Ignore her, she’s been rambling about your date this entire time as if she was there,” Dani rolls her eyes, turning her whole body to face you. “But honestly I don’t care about a hoodie or how you got back here,” you scoff quietly because this is exactly her caring about how you got back—planting the thought inside Sujin’s head for her to ask about it instead. “I just want to know how you feel. Did you have fun? Or did he make you feel like shit?”

“I had fun,” you admit honestly. “He’s cool, funny, and gentle.” Before you realize it, your cheeks are red, and you’re unsure if it’s because you’re scared they’re going to call out your bullshit or because you actually mean what you say. “The food was good too and we had a nice conversation.”

“I’m glad,” Dani nods, giving you one of her warm smiles. Your lips curve into a smile as well, glancing at the movie. “He is nice but…I don’t know, I can’t just get into a relationship,” you hesitate, keeping your eyes solely on the movie and making sure you don’t make eye contact with either of them. “There’s like this big block in the form of Chun constantly reminding me not to trust anyone,” you sigh.

“Oh, baby,” Dani wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. You stay quiet, letting both girls hug you as you think back to today’s date. You know this would make it more believable but you caught yourself off guard when you finally said it out loud and accepted that even though it’s been a year, your ex boyfriend still haunts you. No matter how much you try to push him out of your head.

“Enough about boys,” Sujin nods, knowing when the right time to stop is. “We have a movie to finish. And! I bought ice cream, it’s in your freezer right now.” A soft chuckle leaves your lips and you shake your head at her. “Thanks. And, thank you for making me go out as well.” — “Anytime, angel,” she smiles, happy that even though the date wasn’t any life changing event in your life, you still had fun.

She’s mistaken, though. This date has been a life changing event, and your life was about to take a whole 360 turn.

♡⸝⸝

You’re still in bed, just scrolling on your phone when it rings, your screen flashing with Seokmin’s phone number. “Good morning,” you greet him, still a bit sleepy. Unlike you, the boy on the other side of the call is already fully awake. “Good morning!” You close your eyes when he yells into your ear, putting him on speaker and leaving the phone beside you, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands. “Do you have any plans for lunch?”

“Not that I know of,” you answer, slowly sitting up. “In that case, I’m taking you out. We’re going out to eat.” You roll your eyes, grabbing your phone and moving into the kitchen for breakfast. “Why so suddenly? Did Joshua ditch you for his girlfriend again?”

“Yes– But no! That’s not the point!”

You laugh, placing your phone on the counter and looking through the fridge. “He said he can’t today because he and Veronica are going out but it’s not just because of that,” he assures you. “I just simply want to eat with you, catch up and all.”

Your lips meet in a thin line as you stare at your phone in disbelief. “Why don’t you just say you want to hear about my date?” You can immediately hear the panic in his voice as he tries to convince you it’s not about that and that he just misses you and feels like he hasn’t gone out to eat with you in forever. Which is a lie because you had dinner with all your friends just this last Saturday. “Min, it’s fine if you do want to hear about my date. I don’t expect you all to move on like nothing happened. I know you a little too well for that.”

He sighs, “Okay, yes, I do want to know,” he finally admits. “So? Will you go with me? My treat.” That’s an offer you can’t pass on. “Yeah, we can go for lunch. At twelve? I’m looking after the Choi twins at two.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees. “Our usual place?”

You hesitate for a second as you close the fridge again, going through your cabins next. “Actually, I found this new place, they’re really good, maybe we can go there?” You wonder, rethinking it. You don’t even know if he’s working today, if it isn’t just an useless trip when you could go to your usual restaurant both you and Seokmin love so much.

“For sure,” he nods. “Just send me the address and I’ll be there.”

You called the restaurant right after hanging up, hoping they still had an empty table for you. Luckily, they weren’t fully booked out for lunch today.

Finally getting your breakfast, you sit down on your couch, letting the TV play as a background noise while catching up on an assignment for your class until the clock hits eleven thirty and you leave the house. You’re a little early. You sit in one of the booths, eyes scanning the menu while waiting for Seokmin to arrive. He’s as precise as time, arriving at twelve sharp and sliding into the seat opposite you with a grin. “This place is awesome,” he says right after looking through the menu. You chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“So? Tell me,” he smirks as soon as the waitress takes your orders. “What’s going on in that little head of yours?” You roll your eyes at how corny it sounds, leaning back. “Right now? It’s just telling me I’m really hungry.” This time it’s him that rolls his eyes, glaring at you in a way that says “you know what I mean.”

“It was okay,” you chuckle. “He was nice and didn’t try for anything more. Happy?” — “Not happy. I want to know how you felt, what you ate, if you changed your mind, if–” he gets interrupted by a loud thud, both of you jerking your head towards where it’s coming from. One of the servers is panicking, picking up a broken glass from the floor when the kitchen door opens and a tall man walks through. Your eyes widen at the sight of Mingyu in an apron, cursing under his breath as he sends the server away and leans down instead, picking up the glass shards on his own. Another waitress joins him, giving him an actual broom to clean it with.

When it’s all cleaned up, he assures the server it’s alright, but you see the flustered groan as he runs his fingers through his hair before disappearing into the kitchen again. It’s obvious his day isn’t going the greatest. You probably shouldn’t bother him now. You sigh, a sound so quiet you know Seokmin doesn’t hear it.

“It was okay,” you repeat, acting as if nothing happened. “We had chicken, we talked about what we do, he paid for the food and then drove me home. Nothing to be too excited about.”

“So you’re not going to see him again?”

You hesitate, unsure what you should say. You open your mouth again but before you can say anything, a smirk spreads across his lips and you know he sensed your hesitation. “Aha. Doesn’t seem like a ‘no, no way.’” — “You’re annoying,” you mumble instead of correcting him, his smile only widening.

The food is amazing, and a part of you wonders if it’s Mingyu who made it. Seokmin tells you about his role again, and you let him. He’s excited, rambling about a scene he read in the script just before coming here and how it was going to be perfect. He had a smile on his lips the entire time, but his eyes sparkled at one point, and you realized why he was so excited. The happiest he’s been was while talking about his co-star, the girl playing his love interest. You’ve learnt about her hobbies and things she likes without even asking, a smile forming on your lips as well. Seokmin deserved this. He deserved a pure love that made him laugh and look forward to work.

You listen to him without interruptions, but at some point your mind drifts off to something else. You wonder if you could ever talk about someone like this again too. If you were doomed for good or there still was a chance for your happily ever after as well. It doesn’t look great, you have to admit. And even though the broken part of you was happy you don’t have to deal with a relationship and the struggles that come with it anymore, the hopeless romantic deep in you hoped you could still find someone anyway.

You snap out of your thoughts and focus on the food in front of you, Seokmin’s words barely reaching your ears. What does reach your ears, though, is the tired, flustered groan a few feet away. You look towards the kitchen, catching a glimpse of Mingyu again. This time, he’s standing behind the bar with another cook and your waitress, obviously annoyed. “Have you lost your mind?” He runs his hand through his hair. Your eyes widen at how loud he is. You doubt he’d want the other customers to hear this. “Go back to work, and please, stop messing shit up.”

It surprises you how calm he sounds throughout all this. How even though his voice is loud, there is no anger in it. He stays gentle, taking a deep breath before saying something again—this time not loud enough for you to catch on it. The two people share a quick glance before returning to their work, and you watch Mingyu lean on the bar, head down.

“What are you…” Seokmin’s eyes follow yours, widening slightly when he sees what you’re looking at. Mingyu raises his head again, ready to get back to work as well, when his eyes meet yours and a warm smile spreads across his face. He briefly glances at the man opposite you before catching one of the servers, whispering something to him. He looks at you again, sharing a playful wink with you and then disappearing.

“What was that?”

Your eyes widen and you regret coming here. You didn’t think this through at all. How were you going to explain this to Seokmin? You have no idea.

“So,” you clear your throat. “That’s Mingyu. My…date from last night,” you smile nervously. “Oh my god,” he breathes out like this is the best plot twist he’s ever seen. “You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head, feeling the embarrassment building up as he stares into your eyes, searching your face for answers. “We should eat!”

He washes off your suggestion as fast as you offered it, refusing to change the topic. You manage to avoid his questions and just focus on your food for a while. At least until the same server Mingyu spoke to earlier places a drink in front of you—the same champagne you had yesterday. “On the house,” he says simply.

After that, there’s no chance Seokmin leaves here without getting his answers.

♡⸝⸝

You finally manage to escape Seokmin’s question at one thirty, going straight to Choi’s house. You’re earlier than needed, but neither the girls or their parents mind. Aecha, the taller of the twin girls grabs your hand immediately, pulling you with her into their room to show you a painting she did this morning. You awkwardly laugh at her mother, telling her it’s okay to go now. She quickly calls out at you to have fun with a laugh, but you’re already far gone to hear.

“How about you, Minjee? Did you draw anything?” You ask with a smile, looking from Aecha to her twin sister. She looks up from her set of children’s drums, shaking her head. “I learnt this, though!” She says all excited, picking up her drumsticks and playing for you. “That’s amazing!” You praise her with a wide smile, truly proud of her.

You loved all of the kids you looked after, but the Choi twins would always hold a special place in your heart. They were one of your first clients, and you will forever be grateful to Mrs. Choi for giving you the chance to look after her girls back when you were still underage, looking for any extra money you could get.

“Can we get ice cream? Pleaseee,” Aecha begs you before you can even look her way, holding onto your sleeve like her life depends on it. You giggle, narrowing your eyes a little at her. The smile never disappears from your lips, though. “What did mom say?”

“That we can have one when you come!” Minjee joins in, jumping up and running to you. “Please!” Both girls cry at the same time and you shake your head. “Okay, okay, wait,” you laugh, carefully standing up from the floor. “Should we look if we have any?”

The freezer is empty no matter how closely you check it. You look at the two girls standing behind you, looking over your shoulder. “Fine, let’s get dressed up and go out. It’ll be my treat, hm?” — “Yes!” Minjee exclaims, already running off with her sister. “You’re the best!” You can’t help but giggle with them, unable to resist their pretty eyes when they ask you for something.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to get into the city, the twins on each of your sides. You watch them as they point at different flavors, arguing over what’s better, making even the girl waiting for their order laugh. You pull out your phone to take a picture of them, noticing a new notification. You encourage the girls to finally order, briefly glancing up at them before answering Mingyu’s message.

“What do you have there?” Aecha peaks over your shoulder as you sit down at a nearby bench. You smile at her, turning your phone off. “My friend texted me, so I told him I was with you girls.”

“It was a boy?” Minjee asks next, leaning closer. “Is he cute?” You laugh at her question, but she doesn’t budge, waiting for your answer. “He’s cute,” you nod. “Not as cute as you two are, though.”

The twins giggle and your smile widens. “Show him to us!” Uh-oh. You glance at your phone, remembering how his instagram looks like. Yeah, you don’t need to show that to these eight-year-olds. “Maybe next time,” you smile, asking Aecha for a taste of her ice cream.

The rest of the day goes by in the blink of an eye. You don’t answer Mingyu again, completely forgetting about even texting him as you focus on the twins, going to the park with them before returning back home and watching spongebob per their request. As bizarre as it might sound, this is your ideal day. You got to hang out with a friend, relax, and then finish it all off with two kids that bring you nothing but joy, fast asleep on the couch beside you as you watch a children cartoon.

It was way better than many people might believe.

♡⸝⸝

Mingyu’s head buzzes from the alcohol he had tonight. The music is loud, lights flickering in his eyes every now and then as he laughs with his best friends on the dance floor. A cute brunette stands a few feet away from him, flashing her smile at him, her eyes never leaving him as she speaks to her friend about something. Had it been a different situation—with less of his close friends around and more liquor—he might have invited her in for a dance, but Sujin dancing with her boyfriend right beside him to the club music kept his head sober.

He couldn’t afford to mess up with her around. So, instead, he pats his best friend on the shoulder, leaning closer to him. “She’s totally checking you out,” he says, pointing at the brunette. “You should talk to her!” Wonwoo glances over, frowning slightly. “She has less clothes on than you,” he complains and Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Stop making me into a manwhore!” He yells so he could hear him through the music. “You kind of are,” Seungcheol laughs on his other side. “That’s not true,” he scoffs, turning to Sujin. “Tell them I’m not a manwhore!”

Sujin looks up at the three boys, glancing at Chan in disbelief before laughing. She waves her hand off, barely looking at them again as she continues dancing with her boyfriend. “Yeah, you’re good.” — “See!” Mingyu grins, overly proud of himself. “Now, someone go and entertain her so she takes her eyes off me. I’m a loyal man!”

Cheol laughs, shaking his head. “Loyal? To whom? Your restaurant?” — “Or maybe his gym routine,” Wonwoo joins in, exchanging a look with Cheol. They both seem to be having the time of their life teasing him, but Mingyu only gets annoyed. “I’m seeing someone,” he admits, eyes briefly flickering to Sujin to see if she’s listening. “Or trying to. She doesn’t exactly make it easy for me.”

“Have you guys known about this?” Chan turns to the boys again at Wonwoo’s question. “About what?” He asks back, finally joining in on their conversation. “Apparently he’s seeing someone!” Cheol explains, not really believing it. “Trying to,” Mingyu corrects him. Sujin eyes him up and down, not exactly judging, more like observing. “Mingyu, I love you, but if you call that seeing someone, we need to have a serious talk.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

He walks off the dance floor towards the bar and his friends follow him, obviously not dancing anymore. Cheol quickly glances at the brunette near and winks, a quiet promise of coming back before he follows the others. He’s lucky Mingyu doesn’t see him, otherwise he’d have to hear an useless chat about how his flirting sucks. Which it doesn’t. By the way her eyes follow him all the way to the bar, it is more than working.

“Seriously now, who is this girl and why didn’t we hear about it earlier?” The eldest wraps his arm around Mingyu’s shoulder, watching him gulp down another shot. “He was on one date. He’s not seeing anyone,” Sujin says, rolling her eyes. Mingyu holds his hands up to his chest, pressing his palms to his heart. “You wound me. What happened to the overly excited Sujin that couldn’t shut up about her best friend for more than two seconds while setting up our date?”

“You set him up with your best friend?” Wonwoo and Cheol question at the same time. “Yeah but–”

“What did she think? Did she enjoy the date?” Mingyu interrupts her, obviously catching her off guard. “I thought you didn’t care,” she mumbles confusedly, glancing at Chan to make sure she heard right. “Wait, so my matchmaking wasn’t completely off?”

And she is back. Mingyu has to fight back his smile at how excited she got, knowing he has her right where he needs. He wasn’t in love with her best friend, but he could definitely make it seem like he did if he wanted to. And for their little plan? That was exactly what he had to do.

“We talked about this,” Chan leans closer to his girlfriend but Mingyu catches it. She bites her bottom lip, pushing back whatever she wanted to say next. Mingyu’s eyes narrowed as he tilted his head confusedly, trying to read through her. “Hm?”

Sujin hesitates, knowing she shouldn’t get involved in this any more. After Mingyu’s date and you admitting how anxious Chun still makes you even after all this time, she knew she had to take a step back and let you breathe. Chan talked to her about it too, helping her realize how it must feel when she pushed you into a date you never wanted to have. It wasn’t her place to push you into anything you weren’t ready for, but god, Mingyu’s eyes seemed more sincere than anything else she’s ever seen.

“I think it was okay,” she finally mumbles, creating a smile on his face. “She said you were nice and gentle.”

Mingyu laughs, an easy sound that fills their little bubble. “That sounds like progress, does it not?”

“Keep dreaming,” Cheol shakes his head with a chuckle. “If you want progress, that girl definitely wants you in her bed tonight,” he points back to the brunette but Mingyu just rolls his eyes, frowning. “Of course, if you don’t want her, I can fill in for you.”

“You guys are gross. Why do I even talk to you?” Sujin makes a face of disgust, gulping down a vodka shot that Chan ordered. He doesn’t say anything to it, simply ordering another one. Hoping that this time, it’ll actually be him drinking it. “I wouldn’t put Seungcheol into the same group with the rest of us,” Chan mumbles, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend. That immediately seems to ease her, relaxing in his hold.

“Feel free to hit that,” Mingyu shakes his head. “I’m focused on one girl and one girl only.” There’s a grin on Sujin’s face and part of him feels bad. He wants to say it’s her best friend, he really wishes he could. But his head doesn’t see anyone besides Haeun.

The conversation changes again and Cheol disappears soon after. When Mingyu looks around to find him so they could have another round of shots together and doesn’t find him anywhere, he leaves it be. It’s definitely not the right time to go searching for him, especially not when the brunette from before is nowhere to be seen either.

Wonwoo and Chan fall into a chat together and Mingyu grasps his chance without hesitation, leaning forward on the bar and tilting his head towards Sujin. “Do you think I have a solid chance?” She scans his face, questioning what he’s talking about. When she realizes, her eyes widen. “What do you think?”

“That I got her number even though you said I shouldn’t expect much when you planned the date.” The way her eyes wander all over his face gives off how much she’s thinking about the situation, obviously pleased with how things turned out. “I want to take her out again.”

“Then ask her. You said she gave you her number.”

“She did, but I’m a bit scared. I don’t want to mess it up,” he says, and her eyes soften. “You won’t,” she assures him. “If she gave you her number, that’s already a step forward. Have you guys texted?” Mingyu nods, and Sujin mimics his motion. “I don’t really know what to do, though,” he admits.

A part of him hates how much he has to lie to her. Sujin is, and forever will be, one of his closest friends. Losing her trust would be like losing a part of himself.

But it’s all for the greater future. That’s what he keeps reminding himself. You’ll be able to feel free again and he’ll have time to figure out how to get Haeun back. This was the only way. And he was sure once him and Haeun would get back together, this would be something they could all just laugh at. You, Sujin, him, and Haeun, a one happy friend group, laughing at what happened in the past.

That could work, right?

Sujin seems to think, eyeing him up and down again. “I’m not sure what she’d like. I was thinking of bringing her to like an aquarium, but is that too much? Does she even like them?” Before she can answer, he’s already pulling out his phone, asking more questions. “Do you think she likes pasta? I also found this Italian place in town that makes great food. Or maybe a sushi place would be better? Also, do you think she’d like it if I wore this new shirt I bought?”

He was blabbing whatever came to mind at this point, but it seemed to be working. Sujin waves her hands in front of him, barely glancing at the picture of him in his new shirt he pulled up as she interrupts him. “Are you serious about her? For real? You want to try?” Mingyu swallows, hesitating for a split second before he meets her eyes, nodding. “I do.”

“I wasn’t sure if you two would actually click…” she admits, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I mean, I know you never wanted to break up with Haeun and that it was hard, but I thought since it was so hard for her as well that maybe…it could work and you would kind of, help each other out again, you know?”

Mingyu’s eyes soften and he has to bite back an apology. He gets what she means, but he can’t be what she needs him to for her best friend. Not now, and who knows if ever.

“So I’m glad she didn’t lock you out immediately and you want to see her again,” she smiles again, glancing at his phone. “That shirt is a yes, by the way. Now, give me your phone, I have a few ideas.”

♡⸝⸝

It’s near three in the morning when everyone finally parts ways outside of the club. It’s safe to say Mingyu is drunk, and maybe that’s why he dials your phone number as soon as he sits down in the cab, the fact that you’re probably long asleep by now not even crossing his mind.

The phone rings four times before he hears your voice on the other side, a bit raspy and sleepy. “Hello?” You greet him confusedly, looking at the time on your phone. “It’s three in the morning, Mingyu,” you remind him. “Oh, shit, sorry, did I wake you up?” He curses under his breath as he fights with the seatbelt, momentarily dropping his phone into his lap.

He brings you back to his ear as he tells the driver his address, apologizing to you. You’re not sure what for, but you don’t ask. “Did something happen, Mingyu?” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, sitting up on your bed. The room is all dark, and you’d definitely fall asleep right away if you stayed lying down.

“Sujin is going to tell you about our second date tomorrow. Or today? I’m not sure,” he mumbles and it hits you he must have drunk. Honestly, dealing with a drunk man was the last thing on your list of things you wanted to be doing at three in the morning, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to hang up on him. “And why is that?”

He hiccups and you chuckle quietly. “We were drinking tonight,” he explains, looking out the window. “And I talked about you a lot—like a lot—and convinced her to help me set up a second date. I acted absolutely clueless. It was probably adorable.”

You shake your head slightly, closing your eyes as you listen to him. “I asked her a bunch of things about you, I think she believes I’m pursuing you. It’s working.”

You hum in response, letting the silence settle in. You glance at your phone again, staring at his name for a second before opening your mouth to wish him good night, thinking that’s all he wanted to say. Before the words leave your mouth, he starts humming into the phone. Your eyes widen slightly, watching the phone confusedly. You can practically imagine him, sitting in the backseat of a taxi, eyes closed and head laid back.

You hesitate before bringing the phone back to your ear, just listening. Only for a second, you tell yourself.

“What song is that?” You ask carefully. “Glimpse of us,” he answers without hesitation. “Joji?” You murmur, and he hums back. “I didn’t know you listen to him,” you mumble. “I listen to a lot of artists,” he says, opening his eyes again. “Yeah? Like?”

He thinks for a second, mentally going over his latest playlist. “Keshi, Bruno, Billie, Coldplay, LANY, Mendes too.”

“Do you know any of them?” He asks and a soft smile spreads across your lips. You nod, “I love them. Really like Glimpse of us as well.”

To your surprise, the conversation starts flowing well afterward. You talk about music—he listens to all your recommendations and even gives you his opinions about them—your favorite books, and his favorite meals to make.

Soon enough, you completely forget what time it is. You let yourself get comfortable in the conversation, your eyes closed. But you don’t feel tired anymore.

“Are you home?” You wonder when the loud sound of the door closing reaches your ears. “Yeah, just got in,” he nods, struggling to get his shoes off his feet with one hand. “Give me a second,” he blurts out, and the next thing you know, his phone is falling to the ground. You hide your face in your hand, worried about his phone more than he probably is at the moment. No wonder his phone looked so beat up on your first date.

“Sorry, I’m back.” A smile tugs at the corner of your lips despite you trying your best not to. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he chuckles, moving through his hallway and falling onto his bed the first chance he gets. “I should shower,” he mumbles, burying his face in his mattress. “And you should sleep.”

“I should,” you agree but don’t make any effort to hang up.

“Good night,” your name is soft on his lips, making you squeeze your eyes shut. This was wrong. Your name shouldn’t sound so elegant—especially not coming from him.

“Good night, Mingyu.”

Silence settles over the room and you absolutely hate it. You hate the way you miss his voice already, the way you wonder how his room looks and if he’s hooked up with anyone tonight. You hate yourself for caring. And you hate him for making you feel this way.

You hate feeling useless, like you’re losing control again.

♡⸝⸝

“Wait, so is he seeing her now or not?” Veronica asks and you shake your head at the same time Joshua nods. You shoot him a look. “He is too scared to ask her out,” Chan explains. “But obviously wants her,” Joshua adds. “It’s only a question of time before they get together.”

“That is, only if you’re assuming she wants Seokmin as well,” Daniela comments. Veronica’s eyes flicker between all of you, chuckling quietly. “I see,” she nods, resting her head on Joshua’s shoulder. “I get why Shua speaks so fondly of all of you.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Chan tilts his head with a smile on his lips. Joshua rolls his eyes, holding his girlfriend’s hand under the table. “Yeah, I actually hate all of you.”

“Ouch,” Daniela places a palm over her heart, making you chuckle. You shake your head at them but before you can say anything, the sound of a chair being pulled out interrupts you and you turn your head towards it, watching Sujin take a seat. “Finally,” she breathes out, fixing her hair.

“Everything okay?” Chan wonders and she nods, assuring him it’s just exhaustion. “I need to get back to work in ten minutes but I need to say something first.” All five of you look at her confusedly, waiting for what she has to say.

“I spoke with Mingyu two days ago when we went out drinking and promised him I’ll ask you about…” she trails off for a second, a playful smirk on her lips. “A second date. He wants to take you out again.”

“Second date?” Joshua perks up immediately, glancing at you. “I thought you would completely blow it on purpose.” You bite your bottom lip, not saying anything. You did plan to blow it at first but then somewhere along the way, plans changed. And now, here you are, planning how to make your friends believe you when you start dating Mingyu. Fake dating, obviously. Because that’s what you agreed on.

You’ll be able to go on about your life without Sujin or anyone else breathing at your back about how you should find someone new, and Mingyu could get back to his ex. That’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s what you agreed on.

So why does your heart ache a little when you think about it?

Why does a part of you want to find a boy to make you happy again?

“I know about it already,” you mumble. “He told me. And… I said yes.” You avert your eyes from them, trying to focus on anything but their questioning looks. “You said yes?” Dani’s eyes widen. Veronica leans closer to Joshua, asking him if this is a good or bad thing. “Not sure,” he mumbles back, waiting for you to say more.

“How did you…? When?” You meet Sujin’s eyes, a faint blush covering your cheeks. “He called me that night. Uhm, when he got into the taxi,” you explain, trying to figure out what you should say to them. Yeah, so he woke me up and I picked up, we talked for almost an hour until he told me good night and I wasn’t able to sleep any more? Probably not that.

“We parted around three,” Chan eyes you confusedly and you nod, confirming that it aligns. “This is unbelievable,” Sujin breathes out. “Is this actually happening?”

You roll your eyes and Dani slaps her thigh under the table, forcing her to shut her mouth. “Can we not talk about it for now? Please?” You ask, eyes flickering between all of them. “I’ll let you know if anything happens. Deal?”

“Of course,” Sujin nods, still obviously shocked. “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”

“I hope it works out for you,” Veronica smiles at you. You nod, forming a slight smile as well.

Yeah. You hope so too.

♡⸝⸝

This time, you’re alone in your apartment as you get ready for another date with Mingyu. He refused to tell you where he is taking you, the only hint he gave you being that you shouldn’t wear a dress—after messily stating that it’s not because he thinks they don’t suit you but because it would be inconvenient for you. You didn’t question him further, quietly laughing at how cute he was.

It happened yesterday on a call, because apparently, that was what you did now. It’s been three days since his drunk, middle-of-the-night, call, and he’s now turned that into a tradition. He wasn’t exactly drunk and it wasn’t three am but he called, and that was what mattered.

You were never the type of a person to call a lot—you preferred texting actually—but for some reason, you didn’t mind when it came to him. Did that make you feel vulnerable and powerless? Yes. Were you doing anything to stop it? No.

He was fun, and made it clear since your first date that he doesn’t expect anything from you and you shouldn’t expect anything from him either. Maybe that’s why it feels so easy to be around him. You felt like you could be clear with him without any plain promises or pretending.

But if you weren’t expecting anything from each other, why did you get that tingling feeling in your stomach when you told your friends you couldn’t hop on a call because you were calling Mingyu?

You sigh, taking out a pair of dark blue leggings from your closet and an oversized tee. It seemed like a reasonable fit. Yes, it was a date, but a fake one, right? There was no need to try too much.

If Sujin saw you she would probably slap it out of you and pick a cuter outfit for you to wear.

You chuckle at the thought, shaking your head as you throw the clothes on your bed. Mingyu sends you a picture at the same time and you stop mid step on your way to the bathroom just to respond. He has a toothbrush in his mouth, his hair messy and still slightly wet from a shower he took. “Picking you up in thirty” he says and you hate how it creates a smile on your face. You look down on yourself, debating sending him a picture back before you snap out of the thought, simply liking his message before clicking through a few apps. As soon as Out of My League starts playing, you disappear into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Mingyu keeps up to his words and shows up exactly in thirty minutes. You open the door for him, apologizing quickly before running off to your room to finish your hair. He blinks confusedly, his mouth closing before he can even greet you, and follows you inside. You’re already in your room and he uses that time to his advantage, looking around your living room and kitchen.

Your place is nice. Small, but he expected as much for a student living alone. He leaves his shoes at the door and walks into your room, his eyes immediately landing on you in your chair, battling with your hair as you try to put it into some acceptable braids.

“Do you need help?” He asks softly and you finally turn your head towards him, your eyes widening when you notice the flowers in his hands. Were those for you? You scan his whole body, wanting to vanish into thin air when you acknowledge the difference in your outfits. Compared to him, you look like you don’t care at all.

He is wearing blue jeans with a white button up, but the fake glasses and jacket on top makes him look like a star of a romance movie. He’s hot. Maybe it’s the fact you haven’t been this close to a guy in over a year but you can’t take your eyes off him. And you aren’t sure if you like the feeling.

“You know how to braid hair?” You question, finally meeting his eyes. He smiles, stepping closer to you. “I have a younger sister. She used to yell at me from across the house to help her with her braids when her arms started hurting too much.” You laugh at the thought. You’ve heard about his sister before—two days ago on your call actually—and learnt that they are very close together. Always have been. He spoke of her so fondly, it made you realize just what exactly Sujin meant when she assured you he was the nicest guy she knew. Because he is.

Kim Mingyu might have the kindest soul you’ve ever seen.

“This is so not how I was supposed to give them to you so don’t pay attention to that and just pretend I gave them to you at the door when he greeted each other, okay?” He reaches his hand with the flowers towards you and your lips turn into an upward smile. “You shouldn’t have,” you mumble, taking them from him. He shakes his head, replacing your hands in your hair and fixing what you messed up immediately. “We are going on a date. Even when it’s fake we’re going to do it right. Alright?” He leans closer and you nod, hoping he doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks.

Mingyu puts your hair into two braids while you sit on your chair, your eyes flickering from him in the mirror reflection to the flowers in your hands. It surprises you how well he does. He doesn’t tug on your hair too harshly and doesn’t complain either. It’s a nice sight. “All done! What do you think?” His hands rest on your shoulders and he meets your eyes through the mirror. You barely look at your hair, though, just nodding. “It’s beautiful.”

He smiles, a soft, genuine smile you feel drawn to. “You’re the one that makes it beautiful.”

Without another word, he steps away, still smiling at you through the mirror as you put your glasses on. “Let’s go? We’re already late.”

You try asking him where you’re headed many times in the car, but he doesn’t say, grinning sheepishly as he watches you pout over not knowing anything. “It’s a surprise.” Is all he says. You frown, falling into one with the seat as you watch the road ahead.

You don’t look his way again, but his eyes keep wandering to you every other second. He might have a problem. Two problems actually. And he’s not sure which one is worse. If the fact he can’t keep his eyes off you for some reason, or the fact every time he thinks about how pretty you look tonight, he sees Haeun in the back of his mind, stopping every thought about you he’s had.

It’s sickening. Every time he thinks he might be able to move on, that there might be a future for him outside of his fantasised relationship with her, she controls him again and he is back to where he started.

There’s no universe where your date with him might be real, he realizes. Because in every universe, his heart still beats for Haeun. And in every universe, it breaks your heart no matter how much he tries to get rid of the feelings.

He takes a deep breath, calming his mind and trying to get back into the right mindset as he parks his car, smiling at you again. “We’re here.” You look around, scanning the place quickly. “Did you play pretty just to lure me into your hideout and kidnap me or something? Because if so, I’d like to inform you that there’s pepper spray in my bag,” you state. He laughs, shaking his head. “Shit, you discovered my secret plan.”

You laugh with him, for a second forgetting you aren’t an actual pair going on a date but just two friends. Can you even call what this is that? Friends? You don’t ponder on it for too long, letting yourself not to worry about anything for once as you follow him.

It takes you a bit before you finally see the sign on the building. He took you bowling. Your eyes soften as you glance at him. He doesn’t look back at you, still walking forward towards the entrance. You bite your bottom lip, watching his back. You’ve messed up.

You realize that as soon as your heart starts beating faster over the way he’s made your date about you. It’s no surprise Sujin would recommend him to take you bowling, but it’s the fact he actually listened to her and took you here.

Chun hated bowling. And so, even though it was one of your favorite activities, you’ve never gone with him. He wouldn’t go out of his way for you.

So why did Mingyu? Why did he blindly listen to Sujin’s suggestion even though he could have picked literally anything else?

You settle in your alley quickly. Mingyu orders a drink for you as soon as he can and you joke about how you surprisingly picked a good outfit despite not knowing where you were going. He smiles at you, watching you in what feels like awe as you tell him about your love for bowling and that you’re glad he took you here.

“That’s all great—but you know I’m going to beat you, right?” He grins, walking past you and picking a bowling ball for himself. You roll your eyes, watching him with a smile as he goes for it without hesitation and hits half of the pins.

“I think you’ll have to try more if you want to beat me.” His grin is so wide when he turns to you again you wonder if his cheeks hurt. Because that’s exactly how you feel. For some reason, you can’t stop smiling around this man.

“I’m warming up,” he says, matter of factly. You chuckle, replacing him. “Just watch and learn.”

You focus as best as you can before letting the ball fall from your hand, narrowing your eyes as you watch how it goes. 7 pins down. You tilt your head a bit, wishing you scored a strike before turning around to face him. “Still think you can beat me?” You tease. Your smile falters for a second, but you force it back up right away. It’s not fair. It’s not fair how he makes you feel just by watching you.

Watching you as if he was proud of you, as if he was happy just because you were happy, as if this was anything.

It goes like this for a while. There’s a playful back and forth between the two of you that warms your heart in the best way. Both of you got used to the game shortly after and it became an actual close game—that ended up with you winning anyway. You grinned proudly and teased him as soon as your score showed on the board, telling you you’ve won, and instead of being toxic about it or saying it was just coincidence and you didn’t have actual skills, Mingyu congratulated you with a smile on his face.

You hate how much you could imagine falling for that stupidly pretty smile.

“Let’s go. There’s one more stop we have to go to.”

You follow him out again, letting yourself daydream about how it’d be if this was a real date, with a real boyfriend. Maybe you were hurting yourself like this, but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“And where are we going this time?” You wonder when you slide back into the passenger seat. “Or is Mr. Secret back on?”

Mingyu shakes his head. “We’re going to eat. Sushi. Is that good?” He glances at you and you nod. “That sounds amazing,” you assure him. “I’m not going to find out it’s another one of your restaurants, am I?” He chuckles, confirming that he only has one restaurant which you’ve already seen. The term “only one restaurant” doesn’t exactly seem right to you but you don’t tell him that.

You sit at a table for two, quiet for the first time that day. The silence does nothing good to you because you start thinking about everything again, wondering what you were doing here, on a date with your fake boyfriend who wasn’t even your fake boyfriend yet. “Mingyu, why are we here?” you blurt out and he frowns, watching you confusedly. “What do you mean?” — “Like…this date, I guess. Why are we here?”

That seems to confuse him even more, because his frown deepens. “We need to go on dates to convince your friends I’m pursuing you, remember? You said it yourself, they probably wouldn’t believe us if we told them we started dating after spending two hours together.”

You bite your bottom lip, rethinking your words. “I mean, why did we go? Wouldn’t it have been enough if we just told them we went on a date? We didn’t have to do anything. You didn’t need to take me bowling, or to a restaurant. And you definitely don’t need to pay for my food again, which I know you’re planning on doing. I can see it in your eyes.”

He chuckles before his smile turns into something deeper. He places his hand on the table, palm up. “Give me your hand,” he says gently, his eyes making it impossible for you not to listen. You hesitate for a second before resting your fingers on top of his. He holds your hand on the table, his thumb brushing your knuckles.

Your breath catches in your throat and you watch him pull out his phone and take a picture. You sit without moving as he clicks around, too scared that if you even as breathe wrongly, he’d disappear.

Mingyu turns the phone so you can see, showing you a few pictures he just posted to his instagram. The first one is of you holding hands. You swipe with your free hand, your eyes wandering over a picture of you bowling earlier. You didn’t even know he took one like that. There’s a few more pictures, one with him holding the flowers he gave you, two more from bowling, and one of a flower shop. “If we didn’t do this—go on an actual date—I wouldn’t be able to post this.”

None of the pictures have your face in them, but the message is clear. It’s definitely enough to make your friends believe this—whatever you and Mingyu have—is genuine.

It feels like you only start breathing when he pulls the phone back to himself. Your eyes fall to the still empty table, widening when you see you’re still holding hands with him. You quickly retreat your hand, hiding it in your lap without saying anything. You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. “That’s right, yeah,” you mumble quickly, hoping he doesn’t question your reaction too much. “That was a good idea.”

You fall into silence again, this time much more awkward than before. At least that’s what you feel. You want to shrink into your seat, make yourself invisible, and run away. Even more than you wanted to on your first date.

When you get your food, the mood eases a little. Mingyu briefly mentions that he spoke to Minjoon about your babysitting offer and he said he’ll definitely text you later this week. You smile, nodding in response. That’s good. He also mentions how Minjoon called you his girlfriend and it must mean you two are doing a great job if even people outside of your friend group already think so.

“Do you think your friends believe us?” He wonders, unsure if the tension in the air is real or he just imagines it. He hopes it’s the latter. You nod, covering your mouth with your hand as you chew on the piece of sushi you just put into your mouth. “I don’t think there’s a reason they shouldn’t believe us,” you shrug. “When we were on the call two days ago, Seokmin wanted to call as well and messaged the group chat. I told them I couldn’t because I was calling with you and it started a whole cheer club.”

Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t think there’s a way they wouldn’t believe us now, actually. I mean,” you clear your throat. “In a way, I think that even if they’d have a slight suspicion we aren’t being honest with them, they’d be just happy for me and it’d blind the doubt in them.”

“How long has it been since your last boyfriend?” Mingyu asks carefully. “A little over a year,” you say without thinking about it too much. There’s no need to keep that from him, is there? “My only boyfriend, actually. We started dating when I was eighteen.”

“And you broke up after all the time?” He sounds surprised more than anything else. You nod. You don’t tell him why, and he doesn’t ask you either, sensing it’s not his place.

“I swore off relationships after that. But as you know, Sujin has never given up on trying to make me believe in love,” you continue, and he just sits and listens to what you have to say. It’s nice to have someone like that if you’re honest. Yes, your friends are amazing and always listened to you and your problems when you came to them, but this was different. This was entirely different.

“I was jealous of her and Chan for a while actually,” you admit, a deep exhale leaving your lips. “I wanted what they have—a healthy relationship that makes you want to be good, think about the future together, and wish to raise children. I never told her because I couldn’t. I felt terrible about myself for so long. I thought–” you stop at the right time, fidgeting with your fingers under the table. You can’t say more. You feel sick in your stomach.

Your name escapes Mingyu’s lips in a gentle plea. You meet his eyes, and he reaches his hand out to you on the table once more. You shake your head, wanting to protect yourself again, something you should have done on your first date with him as well. You shouldn’t have agreed to his deal. That would have been the best for your guarded heart.

He pleads again and your breath shakes as you exhale. You place your hand into his, letting him squeeze it tightly. “It’s not your fault,” he says, making you blink. You meet his eyes again, swallowing a lump in your throat. “It’s not your fault,” he repeats. “I know,” you nod, even though a part of you still blames yourself. “It’s okay to feel like that. It’s okay to want good in a relationship,” he assures you.

You close your eyes for a brief second, letting yourself feel the warmth of his hand, the soft melody playing through the restaurant speakers, and the smell of the food in front of you. You brace yourself before opening them again, finding Mingyu still looking at you. He looks genuinely worried. Like he’d put back together every little part of you Chun broke if you’d give him the chance.

“What about your friends?” You quickly change the topic. “Should we do anything about them so they’d believe us?” Something flickers in his eyes but he only gives your hand one more squeeze. He doesn’t push for more, doesn’t ask questions or says anything about it. He just stays, and that’s more than enough.

“What about them? I don’t think it really matters. They’ll believe anything I say anyway,” he shrugs, watching you bite the inside of your cheek, clearly disappointed. “Ah,” you breathe out, your head down. He thinks about it for a second, going over everything that’s been on his mind today before shaking his head. “The guys talked about meeting next week for a basketball game,” he says casually and you look at him again, a sign of hope flickering in your eyes. “Do you want to come with me? It’s on Friday.”

“Yeah, I’d like to come,” you nod, your cheeks catching the color pink. He smiles, nodding back.

You stay like that for a while, just two people holding each other’s pain. It’s only when you clear your throat and bring both of you back to reality that you stop holding hands and start eating again, but you can’t help and steal glances at him every now and then.

This was definitely one of your best dates. Maybe that’s why you feel so numb when you get back home and look at the flowers Mingyu brought you. It’s not right. It doesn’t make sense that your best date has been with someone who you don’t love. It doesn’t make sense that someone who makes you so happy is also someone who doesn’t love you.

♡⸝⸝

Sujin sits on your bed, a phone in her hands as she quickly answers a few of her boyfriend’s messages. “What is he saying?” You wonder, putting on your tee and sport shorts. “He is complaining about being stuck at the dance academy and not being able to go as well,” she shakes her head, brushing it off. She finally puts her phone down and takes your looks in, smiling. “You look great. Your ass is good.” You scoff, but secretly look at yourself in the mirror once again before joining her.

She moves to create more space for you, a teasing smile forming on her lips. You don’t have to ask to know who the smirk is about. “So, I’ve seen Mingyu’s posts,” she wiggles her eyebrows. A blush creeps up your neck before you can stop it and you avert your eyes from her. “I think it was cute.”

“It was,” you agree with a small nod. “Did you tell him to take me bowling?” She shrugs nonchalantly and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at her. “I might have mentioned the place to him.”

You smile, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby,” she assures you. “Was it as good as it looked in his photos? And were you guys actually holding hands? I threw my phone across the room when I saw it, I’m not even joking.” You chuckle as she starts blurting out questions, stopping her before she bites off her tongue. “It was as good as in his photos,” you admit. “We laughed a lot. It just…feels easy with him, you know? We bickered over who was better and when I won, he just watched me with a smile and told me I was great. Seeing that after the years of–” the words catch in your throat and she interrupts you, assuring you she knows what you mean.

“I don’t think I’ve said it yet, so thank you, Su.”

“You did say that already,” she chuckles. You shake your head. “No, I mean– Thank you for making me go on that date. Thank you for introducing me to Mingyu.”

Something flickers in Sujin’s eyes—pain? Happiness? You’re not actually sure. Before you can observe her expression further, she wraps her arms around your shoulders and pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m so happy,” she mumbles, burring her face in your neck. She pulls away, her face now serious. “I love Mingyu but if he hurts you, even in the slightest way, I want you to tell me immediately, okay? I want you to be happy but not if Haeun messed him up so badly he doesn’t know how to love right anymore.”

You nod slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. You hate lying to her the most. You wish you could just tell you how things really were—that yes, you and Mingyu were clicking well, but not in the romantic sense. That yes, you kept thinking about him every free minute of your day, that you wondered what he was doing and looked forward to his night calls, but also that despite all of that, your relationship was absolutely fake.

You don’t know the full story of what happened between him and Haeun, but you know what he told you on your first date—his heart beats for her and that isn’t going to change just like that. So no matter what your silly heart thinks it feels for him, you have to push it aside and pretend.

“Do you know what, uhm, happened with her and him?” You ask carefully and Sujin eyes you quickly before turning her whole body towards you and leaning her back on the wall. “I met Mingyu when I started dating Chan, you know that, right?” You nod, watching her curiously. “They were already dating at that time and so when Chan introduced me to his friends, I also got naturally introduced to their girlfriends. Amy, Nari, and Jisoo—they are Jeonghan’s, Jun’s, and Jihoon’s girlfriends—warned me right away that there was something off about her and she always found some sort of thing that bothered her about the girls.”

“Soon enough, I found out that wasn’t just a plain warning and that girl actually had a problem with absolutely everything the four of us did. I don’t know if she was jealous but even talking to Mingyu pissed her off. She forbade him from talking to us one day and they got into a huge fight about it. That’s when I found out it wasn’t the first time something like this happened and it was on a regular basis for them to fight about things. Haeun hated every girl he was friends with and wanted to have him under control. She was trying to keep him like a dog on a leash. A grown ass man, do you understand that?”

You shake your head when she waits for your reaction, running a hand through her hair before continuing. “She was rude to all the boys as well and still somehow always needed their attention. After every fight with Mingyu, she tried something with his friends. It was so weird to watch and it was clear everyone was uncomfortable around her. We all told Mingyu to break it off with her but he wouldn’t listen and it went on for years. They’ve been together for five years. Five years of pure pain, control, arguments, and toxicity. Then finally, two months ago, she broke up with him for some finance dude she met on her girls trip to Japan,” Sujin lets out a huff and it’s obvious she genuinely hates this girl.

It’s a strong word. Hate. Sujin doesn’t hate many people. In fact, you doubt you ever heard her say she hates anyone except for your ex boyfriend, but you can see it in her eyes when she talks about her. Haeun makes her blood boil the same way Chun did, and that’s a lot.

“And he’s…he hasn’t realized what was wrong?” It’s a stupid question, really. You were the same. It took you three years to realize Chun wasn’t a good guy, and you still couldn’t say you were completely over him. You wouldn’t go back to him—God, you’d rather eat shit than do that—but in a way, he will forever be in the back of your mind, reminding you what you went through.

Sujin shakes her head. “He was blinded. You know what that feels like,” she sighs. “I wish I could help both of you more. When they broke up, Mingyu shut us all out for a while and then acted like nothing happened. He put on a smile and assured us it was okay, but I know it was fake because I saw the same smile on your lips before,” she admits. “And I couldn’t do anything. I hated it. So, please,” she meets your eyes, the desperation obvious. “If anything like that happens again, tell me immediately so I can at least be there for you.”

You nod, swallowing a lump in your throat as you listen to her plea. You feel terrible. You blocked her off for a while before the breakup with Chun happened because you thought you needed the space to clear your head. But the truth was, you needed her there more than ever. And you’re sure Mingyu felt the same way. He just didn’t realize it in time.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. “Don’t be,” she stops you before you can say anything else. “I get it. And I know it was what you needed. It’s just what I felt at that time.” You want to tell her that’s not true, that you needed her and not space, but that wouldn’t be fair to her. Not when it was you who chose space then.

“Anyway,” Sujin clears her throat, a shaky breath leaving her lips. You can see that she is pushing away a few tears by blinking quickly, and feel even worse. You want to hug her and apologize again but she gets up from your bed before you can do so. “Mingyu is going to be here soon, right? Do you need me to go over the basics of basketball before you leave?” She laughs and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need you to explain anything to me.”

“Oh, so you want to hear it from Mingyu and act clueless even after that so he comes running to help. Got it,” she nods with a laugh and you throw a pillow at her, laughing as well. You’ve never been more grateful to her for being able to go from such a topic to laugh.

The doorbell rings soon after and you and Sujin exchange a glance. Her smile widens as she pushes you to the door, somehow collecting your keys and phone along the way so you don’t have to go back to your room.

“Hey,” you smile when you open the door. “Hi,” Mingyu chuckles, glancing between you and Sujin. “Are you coming with us?” — “Nope! She’s all yours tonight. I’m going to surprise Chan at the academy. He feels terrible for missing out.” He shakes his head at her before his eyes fall back to you. Maybe it’s just you and your silly heart playing tricks on you, but you could swear his eyes soften the moment he does. “Let’s go then?” He reaches his hand towards you and your eyes widen. You eye him confusedly but he doesn’t say anything, just waiting.

You hold his hand, letting his fingers wrap around yours without taking your eyes off. Have you mentioned how weird it is to have his warm hand in yours yet? Or that your heart began to race like crazy as soon as you felt his skin on yours?

“Let’s go.” You mumble, walking out the door. Sujin follows right after, a teasing grin on her lips as she hands you your phone and keys. You don’t meet her eyes, too scared she’s going to read you and see right through you. “Have fun you loverbirds,” she smirks. “Be nice and don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” she says directly to Mingyu and he chuckles. “She’ll be home before curfew, ma’am.”

“Good,” Sujin nods, approving. You barely register their conversation, blindly following them out of your apartment building with your eyes still glued to your connected hands. It’s only when Sujin says her goodbyes to you and walks away to her car that you snap out of it. You try to pull your hand away but his hold tightens and he just pulls you closer. “She can still see,” he whispers into your ear, a shiver running down your spine. The way he leans down to get to your height is addicting. Who knew being with a tall man felt so good. “Just hold for a bit longer, yeah?”

You nod, swallowing nervously. “Okay.” You follow him to his car, losing the warmth of his hand as soon as you reach the door. You slide into the passenger seat, like every time he drove you somewhere, and hide your hands in your lap. Mingyu starts his car, glancing at you one more time before slowly leaving the parking spot. “Let me know when you get cold, okay?”

You blink confusedly, looking at him. “I won’t,” you shake your head. Your full name leaves his lips, almost like a warning, and you shiver. “Really, just let me know. I don’t want you to get sick because I took you out. If I can prevent it anyhow, I gladly will.”

Your mind drifts off to your first date when you talked outside of his car and he gave you his hoodie as soon as he noticed you shivering. He didn’t have to and yet, he didn’t hesitate at all. The hoodie is still in your room, hidden in your closet right next to your own. You wanted to give it back—you swear you did—but then it just vanished from your head and you kept it.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, Mingyu,” you assure him but with the way he glances at you through the rearview mirror you know this is not up for debate. “Alright,” you sigh.

Mingyu drives you to an outdoor court and you just watch the few boys already running around with a ball. Maybe you should have let Sujin explain the rules to you. “Come on, let’s go,” he smiles, stepping out of the car. He walks over to your side but before he can reach the handle and open the door for you, you get it on your own. He chuckles, watching you step out on your own. “Hand?” He asks, offering you his hand again. Your eyes flicker between his open palm and his eyes before you nod, wrapping your fingers with his again.

You could get used to this.

“Are all of them your friends?” You whisper-ask as you get closer. He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah. Not many people come here. I’ll introduce you to everyone when we reach them.” You nod, biting your bottom lip nervously. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Maybe you should have kept it between just your friends. You weren’t ready to meet them and pretend you were seeing their friend. What if they’d see right through you?

“Catch!” — “Don’t you dare,” Mingyu yells back at him right away, making you flinch. There’s amusement in his voice and you know he wasn’t actually yelling, but it still catches you off guard. You shake your head slightly, glancing between the five boys already there. And you thought you were early.

“Is this the famous girl we’ve heard so little about?” One of them laughs and Mingyu rolls his eyes, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t be an ass, Cheol,” he warns him, pinning him down with one look. You suddenly feel even worse about meeting them. You really, really, should have thought this through better.

“This is Seungcheol, he is the oldest of all of us,” Mingyu introduces him to you, waiting for the other four to come closer as well. “He is pushing thirty if you want to know.” — “Okay, there was no need for that,” Cheol grumbles. Mingyu ignores him, continuing, “and this is Jeonghan, Jun, Jihoon, and Minghao,” he points to every one of them, finally telling them your name as well. “Be nice to my girlfriend, okay? I would die if anyone introduced me to all of you at once.”

And there goes every rational thought you had. Your head spins as his words reach your ears, your cheeks turning bright pink. His girlfriend. Of course, that was what you agreed on from your first meeting, you remind yourself. You knew this was coming one day. But you didn’t expect it so soon. Not when your heart is a complete mess.

“No worries,” Jeonghan shakes his head, holding the ball under his arm. “Have we ever been anything but good?” — “Should I remind you of the time Soonyoung hid away Haeun’s keys just to rile her up, or the time when you all avoided her because– I don’t even know why you did that.”

You glance up at Mingyu unconsciously when he speaks of his ex, biting the inside of your cheek. Jun seems to notice and take it as a sign of you being worried what kind of people they are because he speaks up. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he assures you. “We didn’t really like her and that was after they got into a fight and she–”

Mingyu clears his throat, interrupting him. Jun shuts his mouth immediately, exchanging a look with Minghao. “Anyway,” Jeonghan glares at them, coming closer to you. “It’s nice to meet you,” he extends his hand toward you and you shake it. He smiles warmly which you mimic. “Have you played before?”

You shake your head and Han’s smile widens, as if he was already figuring out an evil masterplan in the back of his mind. It’s crazy how similar his expression is to Sujin’s. “In that case, I’m sure Mingyu will gladly go over the rules with you. We don’t exactly always follow them, but it’s nice to know them.”

You blink, trying to figure out how it’s even possible Sujin said the same thing to you before. What was it about them wanting you to act like a damsel in distress that desperately needs a strong man to help her? Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it made you feel that way.

“Don’t mind them,” Mingyu leans down to you at the right moment, almost as if he could read your mind. You smile, feeling your worries slowly disappear when he speaks. “Do you want to sit down for a bit before the others get here? Or we could train so you get the hang of it?” You look around once more, nodding slightly. “We can play.”

“Great! Let me just get back to the car real quick, I forgot our drinks there. I figured you might not bring your own water bottle so I took care of it.” Before you can say anything, he is already off, leaving you standing there alone. Could this man get any better?

Actually, he probably could. You’re convinced he could easily reach perfection if he wasn’t still hooked up on his ex. You sigh, awkwardly smiling at the five boys. Jeonghan joins your side after passing the ball to Jihoon, letting them play on their own for a while. “Everything okay?” He asks carefully, eyeing you from head to toe. But somehow, you don’t feel objectified or like he is checking you out. He seems genuine, like he is ready to do whatever in his abilities just to make you comfortable enough. “Yeah,” you assure him. “I just need a second to get used to this, I guess.”

He nods. “I get that we are sometimes too much, but none of them mean any harm. I’m not sure how much Mingyu told you about us or how it was when, uhm, Haeun was here, but trust me, that was a totally different situation.”

“I get it,” you mumble, unsure if you’re going to get your best friend in any trouble by saying this. “Sujin told me about it. What she was like and how you all felt about her.” — “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re coming into the same situation.” Yeah, Jeonghan weirdly reminded you of Sujin. You nod again, assuring him it’s okay. “If anything, we are glad Mingyu finally found someone nice. I mean, I can’t say he talked about you much,” he averts his eyes, a little embarrassed. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t get into a new relationship if you weren’t great, so I’m not worried.”

You bite your bottom lip, preventing yourself from saying something you’d regret later. Just like you hate lying to Sujin, a part of you feels terrible about lying to Jeonghan as well. He has the same effect on you as your best friend and you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“Thank you,” you mumble after a second of silence. “I wouldn’t say I’m the best but I try. I want to be someone who is there for him and holds his hand when he feels nervous or anxious. It’s what he does for me, and I’m incredibly grateful to him for it.”

An approving smile spreads across his lips as he steps forward. “Come on, let’s start before he gets back,” he says, encouraging you to join the five of them. You follow, looking back quickly to see if you catch a glimpse of Mingyu before focusing on the guys.

Mingyu comes back before you can even properly start running. He places two matching water bottles on a nearby bench, and you wonder if he’s done this for Haeun as well. If the water bottle was originally supposed to be hers and you are now just a replacement. You wonder if he ever thinks of her when he is with you, if she’s still controlling him the same way she did before they broke up and if he does things for you imagining it’s her. You hate it. You hate thinking about him like this, but you can’t help it. It feels like Haeun has made her way to the back of your mind, right beside Chun, ready to remind you every time you’re with Mingyu that she was there first.

“I can’t believe you guys started without us!” A male voice takes you back to reality. You glance his way, catching Mingyu’s figure moving beside you. He joins your side, acting like your personal shield if you need it. “It’s not our fault you’re late,” Cheol shrugs, going to greet the two guys coming your way. “And who is this pretty lady?”

“Don’t bother,” Cheol shakes his head, pointing at the way Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Oh! I didn’t know Mingyu was dating again!”

“Well, you know now.” He introduces you to them the same way he did before, briefly mentioning that one of them also works in his restaurant as a waiter. Hansol, you add the face to a name. You don’t ask him if his name has anything to do with Star Wars but it hangs in the back of your head. The one beside him, who let you know of his presence as soon as he reached you, is Seungkwan. You briefly recognize his face from the TV, trying to remember where you’ve seen him before.

“Do you guys know when Wonwoo and Soonyoung are arriving? They’re late. Again,” Jihoon mumbles. “No clue,” Hansol shakes his head. “Have they said anything in the group chat?” Mingyu pulls out his phone right away to check, shaking his head. “The last messages are Chan crying about not being able to join and Seungkwan telling him not to be a cry baby.”

You watch them interact together as they fill each other in on what happened lately, waiting for the last two to arrive. It might be because you’re having more fun than you expected when you listen to them, but it feels like Wonwoo and Soonyoung arrive in the span of a few minutes. “This is the last time we are letting you drive here on your own. It’s been twenty minutes,” Cheol huffs.

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung—as Mingyu informs you quietly—raises his hands up in surrender, grinning when he sees Jihoon scoff. “We’re here now, though! So let’s get started!”

“One small problem,” Minghao clears his throat. “We are an odd number.” You quickly scan the guys around you with your eyes, realizing you’re the one causing this mess. “I don’t have to–” Mingyu squeezes your shoulder, shaking his head before you can finish that sentence. “You should play with us. Play with me.” Your cheeks heat up and you nod without thinking it over, quietly cursing yourself out when you see the large grin on his face. He knows he’s got you.

“Seungkwan should be our referee,” Jun laughs and Kwan sends him a glare immediately. Wonwoo fixes his glasses briefly, offering to sit it out and count the points. “We can play four against four and always change players. Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jeonghan suggests, not wanting for anyone to be excluded. No one seems to have a problem with that, and so you finally get moving.

“I’m on the same team as my girlfriend,” Mingyu proclaims as soon as Cheol and Han start talking about dividing the teams. All nine pairs of eyes land on you and you want to disappear. He needs to stop calling you his girlfriend so openly in front of everyone or the urge to kiss him will grow, and you’re not sure how you’d explain that to him.

“Sure,” Jeonghan brushes it off. “You can be on my team.” — “You can’t just pick one of the best plays like that,” Cheol frowns.

“One of the best players?” You smile, looking at your boyfriend. Fake boyfriend, obviously. “What can I say,” he shrugs with a grin on his face. He leans closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You shiver, your breath catching in your throat. “You’re dating a star, baby.”

Yup, that’s done it. Your head spins, your knees suddenly weak as you avert your eyes from him, unable to look at him like this. God, you must look terrible. What is he going to think when he sees you blushing like this? You don’t want to find out. You let out a deep exhale, your breath shaking as you feel his eyes on you even as he straightens his back again.

“You can take Seungkwan,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. You focus all your attention on the two eldest again, watching as Cheol picks another member into his team so it’s 3 for 3 before they play rock paper scissors for the next members.

Shortly after, you’re sitting on one of the benches beside Mingyu and Hansol. You ended up with Mingyu, Jeonghan, Minghao, Jihoon, and Soonyoung, while the other five made another team. You watch them, trying to grasp the rules and tactics again while trying your hardest to ignore Mingyu’s presence beside you, pretending like he doesn’t make your heart go feral. You aren’t sure if you can make it out of here alive at this rate. You wouldn’t be surprised if you died of a heart attack.

“Mingyu! Swap in!” Jeonghan yells, sending Soonyoung away. Mingyu mumbles something under his breath but you don’t catch it, watching his back as he skips to the court. You exhale, and it feels like the first real breath you took in a while. Hansol glances at you and then Gyu, chuckling. “This is different,” he whispers, more for himself than you, you assume. Soonyoung takes place instead of Mingyu but you don’t pay him any attention, turning your head toward Hansol. “What do you mean?”

“You two,” he says simply. “A good different, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assures you, following Mingyu with his eyes. You’re not sure what his intentions are, but his eyes keep flickering to the bench, checking up on you. “He looks genuinely happy. I’m not sure if it’s because you give him the reactions Haeun never did when he tried his lame flirting or cracked his stupid jokes, but you two are different. A lot.”

You stay quiet, rethinking his words. Was everyone in his life going to compare you to her now? Is this what dating him is like? Constantly standing in the shadows of Haeun and not being able to do anything about it? Because if so, you’re not sure how much longer you can take it before it breaks you.

“I see,” you mumble, falling silent after that. Soonyoung laughs beside you from time to time or cheers for your team, but you don’t really register it. You barely even notice Mingyu waving at you to join the game as Jihoon comes to take your place on the bench, quickly standing up and running to the middle of the court. You stand far away from Mingyu, making him frown. He runs to your side before you can move away, his brows pushed together in worry. “Are you okay? Did Soonyoung say something stupid to you? If he did I promise I–”

“It’s okay, Mingyu,” you interrupt him, shaking your head. “Let’s play, yeah? I’ve been watching and think I got the hang of it by now.” He opens his mouth to speak again, but you’re already off when he does, leaving him standing there. He blinks quickly, tilting his head confusedly before helping Jeonghan get the ball back. The worry never disappears off his face, wondering what happened as he watches you run around the court with his friends. Something just doesn’t feel right.

The game goes on for a while, each team gaining points easily. You don’t have the greatest defence, but you’re just playing for fun, so who cares? By the time Cheol scores the sixtieth point for his team, you all decide it’s time to end.

You must say, Mingyu was better than you ever expected. He moved across the court with ease, blocking as many shots the opposing team tried to score as possible—even though he wasn’t always perfect—while also getting a lot of points for your team. He was amazing. And if you weren’t thinking so much about Haeun at the moment, maybe you’d appreciate his skills a lot more.

Mingyu hands you one of the water bottles he brought and you give him a brief smile, taking it from him. “Are you cold?” He asks, ignoring the conversation happening between his friends just a mere feet away and focusing solely on you. “I’m fine,” you shake your head, gulping down as much water as you can. You couldn’t care less about how unattractive it must seem at the moment, dying to get rid of your thirst.

He sighs. You can see that he wants to say something but doesn’t, keeping it in. You bite back the words yourself, putting on a smile as you hand him the water bottle back. “Wonwoo and Hansol are dipping, do you guys want to join us for drinks or?” Cheol joins the two of you. Mingyu looks at you immediately, looking for an answer in your face. “I’m sorry, I’m getting tired so I think I’m going to go home,” you apologize. “Another time then,” Mingyu smiles at him, patting his friend on the back before saying a quick bye to everyone else. You want to tell him that you don’t have to leave immediately, that he can still talk to his friends, but his fingers intertwine with yours before you can do so.

You blink as he pulls you away. You quickly wave your goodbye as well, biting the inside of your cheek as you stare at your connected hands. You know you shouldn’t get used to this.

You’re quiet at first, both of you are. “You should still go drinking with them,” you say. “I’m sorry for making you leave so early.” He shakes his head, starting his car. “Drinking with them means coming home at five am, unable to speak. I don’t think I need that. And anyway, you’re not going so why should I?”

“You’re a big boy, Mingyu. You know you don’t have to adapt to my needs and always follow my lead, right?”

The words seem to hit. He nods, glancing at you through the rearview mirror to see you. “I just don’t want to go out without my girlfriend.” — “I’m not your girlfriend,” you remind him. Mingyu grits his teeth, holding onto the steering wheel as firmly as he can. “Fake girlfriend or not, it doesn’t matter. I still have my morals. I simply don’t see the point.”

You don’t want to argue with him. You just nod, opening your phone and checking on the new messages Sujin sends you while you were playing. There’s a picture of Chan on the floor of the dance academy, Daniela right beside him. Both of them look equally dead. You’re not surprised. Being at the dance studio for twelve hours might be your worst nightmare, and somehow, they were living in it every day.

It’s quiet again. Awkward. And Mingyu is the first to break the silence. “Do you mind if I post some pictures from today?” You look up from your phone, meeting his eyes briefly. “You can post whatever,” you nod. “It worked really well last time. After our second date I mean,” he explains, keeping his eyes on the road again. “Haeun texted me actually.”

You feel your throat getting dry as you listen to him, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. Why didn’t he tell you sooner? It’s been a week since your date and you have been calling every night since then. There were plenty of opportunities for him to mention it.

“Yeah?” You ask, hoping your voice sounds stable. “About?”

“She asked about you,” he says simply. “She was jealous. She called me too, yelled at me for a while and tried to tell me how she was doing so much better now and that her boyfriend is great but then…” he trails off, clearing his throat to stop himself from saying something terribly stupid. “I just think it’s serving its purpose. Our plan is going well.”

“Great,” you nod, forcing a smile to your lips. “Also, I know I haven’t asked before and that I should have, but I hope you don’t mind that I introduced you as my girlfriend to the boys. I just thought it would be better, and we had to say it someday anyway, right?”

“It’s fine.”

You don’t say much more after that. He keeps talking, asking you all kinds of questions, hoping to get more than one word answers from you, but you don’t give him the pleasure, letting your own thoughts eat you alive as you sit in his car, listening to his voice.

Mingyu notices how quiet you’ve gotten. Of course he does. How could he not? He’s been so excited for today, acting like a little puppy the whole morning—as Wonwoo called him. He looked forward to it much more than he anticipated, excited to show you off to his friends. And the feeling stayed with him throughout most of the night, but as soon as your mood shifted for the worst, so did his. He hated not being able to read your mind, thinking over and over again what he did wrong. He had it all planned out, how perfect tonight would be and he could spend more time with you. Yet, the moment he saw your smile drop, he couldn’t enjoy himself anymore.

Then, he got grumpy. Of course he knows that you’re not his actual girlfriend, but was it that bad he wanted to call you that? Did you really hate it as much as you made it seem? The more he thought about it, the worse he felt about himself. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying, the words flowing out of his mouth before he could stop them. He knows he talked about Haeun, but he has no idea what he actually said.

It must have been bad, that’s the way he can explain the look on your face. You don’t want to talk to him anymore, that much is clear, and if that’s what you feel, he won’t push you.

“Good night,” Mingyu says with a broken smile. You nod, stepping out of the car. “Good night, Mingyu.”

You close the front door with a groan, thinking back to everything that happened today. You should really do something with yourself. You should snap out of it and remind yourself how your last relationship ended to stop yourself from falling for Mingyu more. You should distance yourself and take a break from everything you’re feeling until you can just smile and pretend to be his girlfriend again. You should. And yet, you do anything but that as you walk around your apartment.

In the shower, as hot water runs down your face, Mingyu is the only one you can think about. You see him on the court again, laughing at something Jeonghan said after a successful basket. You remember the way he leaned down to you and whispered in your ear, how he held your hand without hesitation, how perfect the night would have been if he wasn’t doing all of this just to get back with Haeun.

You lay in your bed, a phone in your hands as you scroll through instagram. The pictures of you and Mingyu make you smile—he’s already posted a few from today, and despite everything, you couldn’t be happier—but then you scroll further. There’s a lot of pictures of just him or his friends, but there’s also a specific one that catches your eyes. Him and Haeun, probably on a date. His arm wraps around her shoulders, his smile addicting. It makes you sick to the stomach,

You know you shouldn’t, that you really really should just put your phone down and go to sleep but your thumb hovers, and before you know better, you’re on her profile.

You bite your bottom lip, looking at a few of her newest pictures. She looks nothing like you, you realize. You’re not sure when the last time you felt this insecure was. You learnt not to get bothered by things like this and just focus on yourself, but it felt impossible now. All of a sudden, you hate your glasses. You hate how imperfect your skin looks compared to her, how perfect her manicure and hair looks no matter how close you look. You hate the way she looks much more mature than you and her flawless smile.

But most of all, you hate feeling this way.

You throw your phone to the other side of the bed, burying your face in your pillow. It’s only then that a soft sob escapes your lips and you rush to wipe away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You’re not even dating him, so why do you feel so terrible? Why does it all matter so much?

You’re not sure. All you know is that you fall asleep with the image of Mingyu and Haeun together, laughing at how you thought you could be anything but a used fake girlfriend he’d throw away the moment he didn’t need you anymore.

♡⸝⸝

You feel numb in the morning. It all feels like a play. A play no one gave you the script to. You take a shower as soon as you wake up, hoping to turn off your brain for a second and make it all stop. The thoughts, the doubts, the memories. Everything.

And when you feel like finally, you could get what you’ve been wishing so hard for, a loud ring interrupts you. You close your eyes, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before stepping out and quickly wrapping a towel around yourself.

You open the door just enough to peek at who is standing behind it, your eyes widening when you see the same pair of eyes that has been haunting you all night. “Give me a second!” You yell, slamming the door in his face. You feel the panic taking over you, regretting opening the door in the first place. You should have just ignored the doorbell and washed up in peace.

You quickly rush to your room, letting the towel drop to the floor as you take out the first pieces of clothing you see. A pair of black sweats and an old shirt from a concert you attended with Sujin and Daniela three years ago. It’ll have to do. You don’t have enough time to pick out anything else.

Picking the towel back up, you almost stumble over your own feet. A quiet curse leaves your lips and you decide to just leave it on your chair for now, running to open the door again. You feel embarrassed even before he fully lays his eyes on you, wishing you had known he was coming beforehand.

But Mingyu doesn’t seem to care about how you’re dressed or how early it is, simply smiling as he raises both of his hands in the air for you to see. There’s a bouquet of flowers in his right hand, while the left one holds a white bag. “Breakfast?”

You let him inside, of course you do, quickly scanning your living room for anything that shouldn’t be there. You don’t see any clothes just lying on the floor and that’s a good sign. “You can sit down and I’ll get us water,” you mumble. “Let me help,” he shakes his head, following you into the kitchen.

He takes no time finding an empty vase—probably from the last flowers he got you, he assumes—replacing them with new ones. He asks where your plates are and you point to one of the cabinets, taking out two glasses from another one and filling them with water. He prepares two plates full of food without you having to worry about anything and you just wish it wouldn’t feel as easy and comfortable.

“The cutlery is–”

“I got it,” he interrupts you, still smiling as he carries everything to the living room, setting it down on your coffee table. You watch him, sitting down in the middle of your couch. Mingyu takes a seat right beside you, leaning back.

You blink at him confusedly at first, trying to figure out what he could possibly be doing in your apartment at 8am. Before you can ask, he tells you about a small restaurant a few blocks away he got the breakfast from, mentioning how nice and welcoming the staff members were as well.

You let him talk, letting yourself get lost in his voice as you eat, carefully watching him. His eyes finally meet yours and you swear you catch a glimpse of red on his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. You want to shake your head, tell him it’s all okay and that whatever he’s apologizing for is probably not important, but the words get stuck in your throat. “About last night,” he explains, running a hand through his hair as a sigh escapes his lips. “I don’t want to fight with you. I hate fighting. Especially with friends.”

His eyes tell you everything you need to know. He doesn’t know what happened yesterday, he has no idea why you shut down and yet, he still came here, apologizing without actually knowing what he did. You feel bad. Because truthfully, he did nothing. It was all you last night. Your subconscious and insecurities. He shouldn’t be apologizing.

“I’m sorry too,” you mumble, averting your eyes. “I hate fighting with my friends as well.”

A beat of silence. Mingyu watches you, just like always. It feels like a new habit he developed. For some reason, he can’t take his eyes off you. Maybe it’s because it’s so hard for him to read you, maybe he just wants to know what goes on in that pretty brain of yours, or maybe he just really likes looking at you.

He doesn’t try to figure it out, simply waiting for you to say anything else.

“So we’re good?”

“We’re good,” you nod, meeting his eyes. You smile while he breathes out, an obvious weight falling off his shoulders. “Pose for a second,” you blurt out, grabbing your phone from the table and opening your camera. He looks at you confusedly for a second before noticing your phone, immediately holding two fingers up and grinning. You lower the phone again so he can see what you’re doing, opening your and your friends group chat. You share the photo, sending a simple message after: having breakfast with my boyfriend.

“I see,” Mingyu chuckles, understanding what you were doing. His friends might have already known, but yours were still waiting for the information. You watch the new messages flow in immediately. Ronnie sees it first, excited for you. Dani and Seokmin are not far behind her, asking if you’re serious and wishing you good luck.

The more texts you read, the happier you are that you did it like this and not in person. You’re not sure if you could lie to them all like this if they were standing in front of you.

Your screen flashes with an incoming call and you look up at him again. “Ready to be my boyfriend?”

“Always.”

You avert your eyes again, picking up Sujin’s call. If you’d let her wait any longer it could be weird. “Hi,” you greet her. “Is it true?” She blurts out immediately, just like you expected. “Is it real?”

“Hi, Sujin,” Mingyu greets her as well after you put it on speaker. “Oh my god, this is real,” she breathes out, making your boyfriend laugh. “How did it happen? How did he ask? Is he dressed nice? Wait– Is he dressed?” She starts asking questions and you quickly shake your head, panic overtaking you as you offer the phone to him instead. You can’t talk to her right now. You can’t answer all of her questions with such ease that is expected from you at the moment.

“Don’t worry,” Mingyu takes the phone from you, giving you a reassuring nod before completely taking over and letting you eat your breakfast. “I am dressed now and I was dressed when I came. I brought flowers and breakfast. We’re still eating right now so you might hear her chewing in the background,” he chuckles, glancing at you for a second with a wink to let you know he has it all covered. You suddenly feel hotter, looking down onto your plate and focusing on the food alone.

“I knew I could count on you,” Sujin mumbles and you can almost picture the smile on her lips. “If that’s the case, then I’m glad. I know you can make her happy.”

“That’s the only thing I want,” he agrees, looking at you again to see your reaction. You don’t look back at him, though, still staring into your plate. Somehow, that felt like so much more. Knowing you couldn’t even look him in the eyes was enough of a reaction.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Sujin nods. Your name leaves her lips and you finally look up. “I’m happy for you. I’m glad you can love again and know how it feels to be loved properly.” You don’t say anything back. You can’t. She’s too nice, and you just can’t tell her you’re glad too when you know it’s not true.

Being loved properly sounds nice. But it’s also something you know you can’t have. Not if you keep going like this.

♡⸝⸝

It’s been two weeks since you told your friends you and Mingyu started dating. At first, you weren’t sure how to act. They were all excited for you, asking about Mingyu and how it all happened. You spoke honestly, telling them everything about the dates you went on and the morning he came over with flowers. You weren’t lying to them, not really. You left out a few details of the story but that was necessary.

That doesn’t make you a completely terrible person, right?

You thought about how you’d feel if you were in their position many times. What would you do if you found out Sujin has been lying to you and she and Chan were never actually dating? What would you do if Joshua told you he was actually with Veronica just because she had a plan on how to get back with one of her exes all along?

You would probably feel bad for a bit and wonder why they haven’t just told you but you wouldn’t hate them or stay mad for long. Surely you were going to be okay if it all somehow cracked and they’d find out. Right?

You look up, doing the best puppy eyes you can. If you’re lucky, they’ll work and you can just stay in your apartment doing nothing.

But apparently, you’re the unluckiest person to exist. “Don’t even try,” Mingyu shakes his head, looking down at you. “Come on. I’ll be there with you. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll help you with everything and plan out your entire workout. Please?” It’s his turn to look at you with puppy eyes. Unfortunately for you, they work way better than yours.

You groan, your back hitting the couch as you hide your face in your hands. “Fine! Okay! I’ll go!” Just stop looking at me like that. You’re making it impossible for me to tell you no. You don’t finish it, leaving the words in the back of your throat.

Kim Mingyu is an asshole who holds more power over you than you’d like.

And still, something you learnt in the past two weeks since you officially started fake dating, is that your heart wants him more and more every day.

He’s nice to you, maybe too nice. He always makes sure you’re comfortable and that you have everything you need. He’s been taking you out for lunch every day and listened to all your complaints about exams without making you feel small and irrelevant. If you even just sighed in a way he didn’t like on your nightly call, he would show up at your apartment the first thing in the morning with flowers and chocolate, asking about anything that was bothering you. He made it all easy. It was comfortable, natural, and at times, you managed to forget that this was all fake.

You could see yourself in a relationship with him, waking up beside him in the morning and telling the kids you babysit all about him when they ask why you’re smiling at your phone. You could imagine bringing him to meet your parents. Him in the kitchen, helping your mom with dinner and telling her about everything he loves about you. Dancing with him in the middle of the night and singing on top of your lungs, the space filled with laughter. You could see yourself kissing him on your couch, in your bed, in the shower, in his restaurant, at a random café on a random Tuesday.

It was all too easy to imagine.

“Just let me get my things then,” you sigh, and when you pull your hands from your face, you see the grin on his lips. He’s so insufferable, you just want to kiss those pretty lips of his. “Okay,” he nods. “I’ll fill your water bottle in the meantime, yeah? Do you need me to do anything else?” You shake your head, assuring him it’s fine.

And because it all feels too easy with him, you’re now grabbing your sports shorts and bra from your closet so you can go to the gym with him. The only place you always told your friends you wouldn’t go to. You liked working out in your apartment much more. You didn’t have to worry about what other people thought of you or if you were dressed accordingly. But what wouldn’t you do for him at this point?

You hesitate before pulling out one of your shirts as well, rethinking your outfit already. When you were at home, you liked working out in just your shorts and sport bra, but would that be too inappropriate with all the people around? Rather than risking it, you just take the shirt and walk out of your room again, hiding the clothes in Mingyu’s gym bag.

“Next, I’m going to get you to ride the bike with me,” he teases as he takes his bag and puts it over his shoulder. “Right,” you roll your eyes, knowing he might as well.

As soon as you step into the gym, you feel small. Not because of how tall the guys walking around are—even though they look like giants—but because of their eyes. You can’t say you’d be sure they are looking at you or that they have something against you, but you feel like it. You feel like everyone that walks past you gives you a dirty look, almost as if they knew you don’t go to the gym normally.

“No need to be nervous,” Mingyu’s voice makes you snap out of your thoughts. You look up at him, doubting him a bit when you meet his eyes. He just smiles at you though, holding your hand in his and pulling you toward one of the machines. Gosh, you were screwed.

You keep looking around the place like a lost puppy, and Mingyu would have to lie to say you weren’t cute. He chuckles, explaining to you exactly how to use a few machines and how many sets you should do on each of them. You just nod, listening to his every word. You can do it all, you assure yourself. It can’t be that hard, right?

It really is not. Mingyu stays nearby, doing his arm workout while you focus on legs, doing everything like he showed you earlier. He answers all of your questions and fixes your form when he notices anything wrong.

You slowly start ignoring other people, only focusing on you and him. There’s no one else you’d want to pay attention to anyway. You begin to realize that in a crowded room, you’d always look for him.

Mingyu can’t help it and glance your way any and every chance he gets. You’re impossible to avoid. He watches you fix your ponytail after a set, watches you change weights on a machine when you get confident you can do more, and even keeps his eyes on you as you do your leg press. You’re strong, and he can’t help but feel proud.

That’s my girl.

It’s the only thing on his mind ever since you stepped foot inside the gym. He saw the way others checked you out, how one of the guys watched you move around through the mirrors on the walls. It got him gripping his dumbbells tighter. He kept close to you, partly in case you’d need help or have any questions, but mostly just so he could make sure you were okay and no one was bothering you.

At one point, when a younger guy—probably not any older than you—came over to you, he almost stopped his whole workout and jumped to save you, to show you were here with someone. Fortunately for the poor kid, he walked away from you before Mingyu could do anything, calming himself down immediately.

He needs to do something with himself because he is pretty sure this isn’t normal behaviour. Especially not around his fake girlfriend.

When you’re done with your last set on the leg press, you look around. Mingyu is still on his machine, doing his bench press with weights that have your head spinning. How is this man pushing up almost double your weight?

You grab your water and walk to him, standing far enough not to be in his way but also close enough to have a good look at him. His face is sweaty, his arm muscles batting their pretty eyes on you as he pushes the bar up. Suddenly, you’re thanking the entire universe for making him wear a black tank top that clings to his chest. You know you should stop staring, that it’s not right to just stand there and watch him like he is your sweet treat after the workout, but you can’t help it.

You snap out of your thoughts only when he sits up, asking you what’s up. You force your eyes up from his chest, blinking quickly to remember what you wanted to say. “I’m done with my set,” you blurt out. “What now?”

Mingyu smiles, catching two guys behind you talking while looking at you in the corner of his eyes. He reaches his hands forward and you automatically take a step forward—surprising yourself with it. He fixes your shirt down, pushing it down and covering your ass. His hands stay resting on your hips for a second as he looks up at you to meet your eyes, acting all innocent. “How about you help me clean these weights and then we go squatting?”

You nod even though the words barely reach your ears. The only thing you can focus on are his hands on you, touching you as if it was normal, as if you did this every day. You reach your hand forward as well, brushing a messy strand of hair off his face. He never stops smiling, and all you want to do is close the space between you and wrap your arms around him.

His hands fall back to his sides and you take a step back, realizing what you’re doing. “Yeah, let’s do that,” you agree, turning around so he wouldn’t see your flushed face. Mingyu stands up and you immediately feel his presence behind you, fighting the urge to look back.

Even though he said you’d help him clean up the weights, he doesn’t actually let you do anything, telling you he’s got it while you wait at the side, watching him. You feel a bit embarrassed. You’re just standing there, looking like a little lost puppy while he does all the work. Even before, he helped you set up all the machines and explained everything while you just listened without interruptions. You just wish you could be more useful, even though this is his field and not yours.

“Grab it like this,” he explains, showing you exactly how to hold the bar before stepping back again. You do as he says, grabbing the bar and watching him through the mirror in front of you for more instructions. “And spread your legs to align with your shoulders.”

Mingyu stays behind you as spotter, squatting down with you with his palms resting slightly below the bar in case you couldn’t get it up anymore. You swallow a lump in your throat as you watch the two of you in the mirror, meeting his eyes. Your cheeks heat up from how close he is and you do everything you can to just focus on squatting and ignoring how if you’d take a step back, you could rub yourself on him.

He’s nothing but professional as he spots you and that makes you feel even worse. Why do you have to think of him like this when he is just trying to get his workout done? He was so excited to bring you with him into the gym and now, you feel like you’re ruining it all. You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before doing another squat. You can do this. You can just focus on the workout and push every thought you have of this man aside.

“One more.” You push up with Mingyu’s help, setting the bar back up. You step back as quickly as you can, exhausted. “This is the last time I went to the gym with you,” you swear, making him chuckle. “Right. Of course.” You narrow your eyes at him but it does nothing to him. He tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling innocently. “Let’s go. Dinner is on me.”

“When is it not,” you mumble, shaking your head. “You don’t think I’d ever let you pay, do you?” He questions but you’re already walking past him, ignoring him. You stare at the ground beneath your feet, trying to calm down your heart as it tries to jump out of your chest. This really isn’t good.

You finally feel relaxed when you sit down in one of the booths and scan the menu with your eyes, even though it still looks the same. Minjoon comes to take your order shortly after, smiling at you gratefully. You return his smile, asking for a lemonade. Mingyu gets the same thing without hesitation, and part of you doubts if he even knows what he ordered.

“How is Jisung doing?” Mingyu asks as soon as Minjoon leaves your table. “He is super sweet,” you grin, remembering the little boy you started babysitting every Tuesday and Friday. His grandma has also been helping a lot, you’ve heard, which you also assume he’s at now. “He is lovely and has a passion for art. He’s really adorable, you have no idea.”

He listens to you with a smile, imagining you taking care of the little kid. “I’m glad he’s not making it hard for you. Joon has been perfect lately and it really shows that he’s not as stressed now knowing his kid is safe.” Your smile widens as you listen to him, happy to be able to help.

“Is Uni still as busy?” You shake your head, assuring him it’s better now. You tell him how you have more time again and that you’ve been reading a lot, which immediately makes him ask about what you’re reading. “It’s a really easy read. I enjoy it a lot,” you smile, taking a sip of your lemonade. He shakes his head, obviously not satisfied with your answer. “I mean, what is it about? What about the characters? Tell me about it all.”

You feel your heart skipping a beat, and you have to convince yourself this isn’t real again, that you’re just pretending to be his girlfriend.

♡⸝⸝

It feels like forever since you last sat down and ate dinner with just your girls. You’ve been busy with school, babysitting, and Mingyu for the past few weeks, and even though you still talked to them almost daily on the phone, nothing was better than going out with them without the guys.

Except even though you went out without the guys, it feels like they are still here. Especially when all your friends want to know about is how you and your boyfriend are doing.

“He is nice,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time. “We don’t want to hear about that, though,” Sujin rolls her eyes. “Yeah, tell us about the dates. How he makes you feel, and if we can add him to the group chat or if it’s still too early,” Ronnie joins in. You blush as you think about it, making both girls grin. “Alright, okay,” you shake your head, averting your eyes.

“We’ve been going to the gym together a lot and–”

“You hate the gym,” Daniela comments and you swallow the rest of the sentence. She’s not wrong. You did hate the gym before. But ever since he convinced you to go with him, you’ve started to like it more and more. You probably wouldn’t go on your own, but you like going with him. You like spending time with him, no matter the place.

“And he also took me to a museum last week because I mentioned the exhibition once in passing,” you ignore Dani’s comment, remembering how he held your hand while walking around the museum. It was harder and harder to believe it was all just a play pretend. “He’s so nice and sweet, I just want to kiss him all the time,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands. You’re embarrassed. You’re finally not lying about anything as you speak and it’s harder than you thought.

Of course, you’d want to kiss him. He is your boyfriend. You don’t want to see how they look at you at the moment. In their heads, you must make no sense. You probably look like a fool. But it’s the first time you’ve said something like this out loud, the first time you were able to voice what’s been on your mind for weeks now.

“I get that,” Veronica and Sujin voice at the same time, giggling softly when their eyes meet. “He just makes me feel so safe and taken care of, I’m scared of ruining it all if I do something wrong.”

“You won’t,” Sujin assures you. “Like you said, Mingyu is sweet, and he cares a lot. You don’t know, but he brings you up in every conversation. I don’t think there’s been a day when he didn’t talk to the guys about you and mentioned how adorable you are. You might not see their text messages, but I do. There’s no way you can ruin anything because that man loves you.”

You’re convinced you look like a tomato. You keep your face hidden, hiding the stupid smile on your lips as you listen to your best friend. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to visit him now and pretend like Sujin never said anything.

“That is all awesome, don’t get me wrong,” Dani starts, waiting for you to get your hands down again and look at her. “But what about the sex?” She wiggles her eyebrows, making your eyes widen immediately. “He probably talks a lot,” Sujin chuckles. “I don’t–” you start, clearing your throat in embarrassment when they all look at you. “I don’t know, actually. We haven’t… we haven’t yet.”

“Oh,” Sujin blinks, shaking her head quickly. “That’s okay,” she shrugs. “Everyone moves on their own time, you don’t have to be doing anything yet if you don’t want to.”

“But you’ve seen him, right?” Dani asks, blinking confusedly. She knows Sujin is right, she just hasn’t expected this. You shake your head, hoping this doesn’t ruin your entire cover. You haven’t thought about this before—about what you’d do if they asked you about this. You didn’t talk about any of this with Mingyu either, but you know now you have to. You need to get your stories together.

“This pasta is so good,” Veronica breaks the awkward silence, exchanging a look with Sujin and Daniela. They don’t ask about it anymore, changing the topic to something completely different. You don’t pay much attention to it anymore though, thinking about what you should say to Mingyu and how to talk about it. You were going to watch a movie with him after dinner, and the sooner the better, right?

♡⸝⸝

You try not to think about it much as you sit down beside Mingyu, pulling the blanket he prepared over yourself, relaxing. You look around the living room, quietly admiring the space. It’s the first time you came over to his apartment, and you’re starting to regret not spending every free minute here. Not only is it huge, double the size as your little apartment, but it feels like Mingyu in every way. It’s safe to say you love it.

There’s a bunch of snacks ready on the table, making you smile. Mingyu scrolls through his Netflix feed until finally landing on a movie that doesn’t seem too bad, glancing at you for approval. You nod, and he lets Love Hard play on the TV screen.

It’s about a girl matching with a guy named Josh on a dating app just to show up at his house for Christmas and find out she’s been catfished with Nina Dobrev in the main role. It’s vibey, comforting, until Josh suggests she could pretend to be his girlfriend so his family would stop bothering him and he helps her get the real guy from the photos. It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it?

You watch the movie while stealing glances at the boy beside you, hiding further under the blanket every time you meet his eyes.

“Sometimes you have to take a chance on someone, and hope they’re worth the risk,” Josh says, and you find yourself looking at Mingyu again. You meet his eyes, but this time you don’t look away immediately, getting lost in his gentle smile. Maybe Josh is right. Maybe the risk would be worth it if it’s with him you’re talking about. Maybe if it’s with Mingyu, you don’t have to worry about anything.

The movie slowly comes to an end and you clear your throat, finally mustering up enough courage to talk about what’s been on your mind since dinner. “I went to eat with the girls earlier,” you mumble, reaching out for a few chips on the table. Mingyu watches you curiously, “Yeah? Was it nice?”

You nod. You don’t tell him about what you ate or if it was good, though. “They asked about us. About our dates, how I feel about you, and uhm…also about sex,” you admit, avoiding meeting his eyes and staring down into your lap. “Oh,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “You can tell them anything you want, I don’t mind. You can say I fulfill all your deepest darkest desires and am bigger than you thought,” he laughs, thinking of it all as a joke. Just a silly topic friends talk about something, right? It doesn’t matter, it’s not important.

But then he catches your eyes, blinking confusedly. Maybe he’s wrong after all. Maybe it’s more important to you than he thought. “I told them we haven’t been with each other yet. I don’t want to lie to them,” you mumble, raising your head slightly to see what he thinks. He tilts his head slightly, questioning you. Your cheeks heat up, realizing what you’re talking about. You were wrong, you were so wrong.

This is not something you can talk with him about and you can’t take the risk. You can’t for the same reason you thought you could. It’s Mingyu. Mingyu, who took you on the most perfect dates while not even being with you. Mingyu, who takes care of you without you having to ask first and is always worried about you. You can’t take the risk, not when it could mean losing it all.

“Forget it,” you blurt out, quickly standing up and trying to walk past him. You need to leave. Need to clear your head and start thinking straight again. You need to be alone to remember why you’re dating him in the first place—so he could make his ex jealous. You’re with him right now just so Haeun can take him after you. That’s all that this is.

Except maybe it’s everything but that. Maybe it hasn’t been about Haeun for weeks now.

Mingyu catches your wrist as you try to walk past him, stopping you. Your name leaves his lips, making you slowly turn around and face him. His eyes watch your every movement, his head still tilted. But this time, he’s not questioning or doubting you, this time he’s holding onto everything he can just so you wouldn’t leave him. Not now, not ever.

“Wait,” he pleads. You bite your bottom lip, letting him gently pull you closer again. “Come here,” he pulls you into his lap, brushing a few hair strands out of your face and tugging them behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek, thumb moving in slow circles. “You don’t want to lie to them?” You shake your head, keeping your eyes on his. He nods, his other hand moving to your waist. “Then don’t,” he mumbles, straightening his back and closing the space between you, his lips brushing with yours.

Your eyes widen and you feel your whole body freeze. You can’t believe it’s real. Surely it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, right? But when he pulls you closer, trying to deepen the kiss, you realize it’s as real as it can be. You close your eyes, leaning into him. Your lips press against his, finally getting a taste of what they’ve been wishing for for what feels like ages.

His lips are soft, chopped, but plump, fitting with yours perfectly. Your hands find his shoulders, steadying yourself. You can taste the chips and beer he had during the movie but you can’t care less about it at the moment. You move your hand again, tangling your fingers in his hair. His lips fall open and a groan escapes, sending a shiver down your spine. You chase after him immediately, hunger overtaking you.

You feel the kiss in your entire body, in your fingertips, in your stomach, in your toes, but especially between your legs. God, he’s kissing you too perfectly. His right hand squeezes your waist, holding onto as much skin as he can, while his left rests on the back of your neck, keeping you as close as possible. He bites your bottom lip and a shaky breath leaves your lips.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he breathes out, immediately pressing his lips back to yours. You don’t think you can. You don’t think you’ll be able to tell him to stop no matter what he does. “Please, baby,” his words have you trembling, wishing for more friction. “Tell me you get it. That you know I’ll stop if you don’t like anything.”

You nod, desperate. “I know, Gyu. I get it,” you agree and he lets go of your waist, moving his hand between your thighs instead. He presses his thumb to your clothed clit, pressing gently. He watches you carefully, eyes looking for any sign of discomfort as he draws small circles with his thumb. You nod again, reassuring him it’s okay. You squeeze his shoulder tighter, rocking your hips forward. “Does it feel good?”

You don’t think you could explain with words just how good it feels to be sitting in his lap after so long and having him touch you. How your whole body begs you to move faster, how it screams for you to take your clothes down and have him touch your naked skin.

“Amazing,” you agree, watching a smile spread across his lips. “Do you want me to take this down?” He tugs at your sweats slightly so you know what he means. You don’t care what he’s talking about, though. The answer would be yes anyway. You push up, kneeling on top of him to give him better access. When he does move, waiting for your answer, you just tug them down yourself. “Yes, Mingyu. I want it off.” He helps you push them to the ground, hands finding your waist and helping you sit down again.

He raises his thigh slightly, pressing against your core. A soft whine escapes your lips and he collects your hair, tugging them behind your ears so they wouldn’t get in your face. He’s never regretted not having a hair tie anywhere near him more than now. “Mingyu, please,” you whisper, rocking your hips on top of him again. He pushes your panties to the side, pressing his fingertips against your clit. “Like this?” You nod, watching him as he slowly circles your clit, driving you crazy.

He moves his fingers lower, collecting as much wetness as he can before bringing his hand up to his lips. You watch him wrap his soft lips around the wet fingers, making your eyes widen. You’re far too gone by now, every rational thought you ever had now overtaken by need. “Mingyu,” you whine again, watching something flash in his eyes. That seems to get him.

“I’ll buy you new ones. I promise,” he says suddenly, and before you can question what he means, he is tearing your panties, getting them off you. You can’t even complain, too needy yourself to bother with taking them down. His masculine thigh presses against your core again and you’re grateful he is wearing shorts. His bare skin feels incredible against yours. You fight yourself, trying to stay sane for as long as you can. “It’s okay,” he coos, helping you move your hips back and forth. You meet his eyes, nervous. He just shakes his head, hands falling back to his side. “Use me, baby. Use me and make yourself feel good on top of me.”

Your head spins, going completely blank under his words. He flexes his thigh more, leaning back against the couch while you rock your hips forward, slowly riding him. You watch the growing bulge in his shorts, reaching your hand to him. He catches your wrist before you can touch him, bringing your hand up to his face and kissing your knuckles. He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on you. “Just you, baby,” he whispers. “Don’t worry about me and focus on yourself.”

You bite your bottom lip, your head falling to his shoulder as you continue grinding, chasing your high. “Gyu, please,” you cry, pushing all of your anxiety aside as you soak his thigh in your wetness. “Yes, baby?” He coos sweetly, watching you. “Touch me, please,” you plead, eyes closed, forehead buried in his shoulder. You can’t look at him. Not now. “Where, baby? Where do you need me?”

“Anywhere,” you cry. You hear him chuckle and before you can realize it, you’re sitting up straight again. “Let me see you then,” he says and you nod, never stopping your hip movements. He cups your breast through your shirt, his thumbs gently brushing over your hard nipples. When he sees you biting back a moan, he lets his hands wander under your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. Your pace stutters and you whine, pressing yourself down onto him harder. “That’s it, baby,” Mingyu praises you, unbuttoning your bra with ease. He lets it fall to the floor, squeezing your nipples between his fingers.

“Make a mess on me. I want to see you feel good.” You moan as you grind on him, feeling yourself getting closer. He never takes his eyes off you, letting his eyes flicker from your face to your pussy rubbing on him, and now to your exposed tits. You’re so pretty, he’s not sure how much longer he can last before coming in his pants.

Mingyu always tried his hardest to be respectful, to keep his hands to himself and eyes where they belong. You were fucking beautiful, and every time you were around him, he just wanted to hold you. No matter if you were in a dress, in your sweats and an old tee, or in your sports wear while going to the gym with him, he just couldn’t stop thinking about how it’d feel if he could hold you, run his hand over your thighs, your waist, squeeze your flesh and trace his lips all over your body.

But he was a gentleman, and gentlemen never made their girls uncomfortable. So he kept to himself, pushing his thoughts aside. Until now, at least. Now that he has you right here, rubbing yourself on top of him and chasing your high, every one of his dirty thoughts is coming back, begging to be acted on.

He squeezes your breast, ignoring his throbbing cock and just focusing on you.

Your breath shakes as his presence clouds your mind, the wet sound of your pussy rubbing on his thigh filling your ears. He leans closer and wraps his lips around your right nipple while his fingers work on your left one, making sure you feel pleasured everywhere possible.

You tangle your fingers in his hair again, tugging on them slightly as he sucks your nipple. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles, and you immediately try to find his empty hand, intertwining your fingers with his. He lets you, feeling your rock your hips faster, harsher. He smirks, squeezing your hand tightly so you know he is there. “Let go, baby. Make a mess on top of me.”

You do. You reach your orgasm, letting your head fall to his shoulder again as you try to catch up on your breath. He lets go of your breast with a pop, tracing slow circles on your back with his free hand. You shake in his lap, finally getting back your rational thinking and realizing what just happened.

Your eyes widen and you quickly straighten your back, panicking as you look him in the eyes. Fuck. Did you just cum on this man’s thigh? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. All of a sudden, embarrassment didn’t feel like a strong enough word. You’ve completely fucked up. This was bad. This was so terribly bad. You quickly try to stand up, almost falling backwards in the process. Mingyu chuckles, holding you. “It’s okay,” he assures you when he sees the panic behind your eyes. “Baby.” You meet his eyes, swallowing nervously. He shakes his head, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I did everything wrong,” you shake your head. “This is– we–” you don’t even know what to say. This is all just wrong. You’re going to ruin everything you’ve been building up on, and not only lose him as your fake boyfriend now, but also your friend. “I’m so sorry.”

He says your name, like a little warning when you apologize. You bite your bottom lip, slowly regretting everything. He shakes his head again, pulling you closer. “Don’t ever apologize for anything like this, baby. Don’t apologize when you don’t know something. Don’t apologize when you get something wrong. Don’t apologize for making yourself feel good when you’re with me. Don’t apologize when you have no reason to.” His words hit you like daggers. He’s too perfect. It’s like he can read your mind. Not only does he constantly prove you not everyone is like Chun, but he also shows you how you’re supposed to be treated.

Before you can say anything, he presses his lips against your again. This time, it doesn’t contain any hunger, just softness and pure, innocent, love. You melt into the kiss, letting yourself feel, letting yourself wish for something more. Maybe it can happen after all. Maybe if it’s with him, anything is possible.

Mingyu helps you into his shower, leaving you alone in the blue bathroom while he comes back to the living room, cleaning up the rest of the snacks and your glasses. He’s still dirty, but that can wait for when you leave. He collects your torn panties from the floor, smiling at himself before taking them with the empty chips bag to the trash.

When you walk out of the shower, you’re dressed back in your sweats and tee. You walk into the living room, finding Mingyu sitting in the corner of his couch, waiting for you. A gentle smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you walk closer, standing between his legs. You briefly glance to the thigh you rode earlier, your cheeks heating up before you lock your eyes with his again. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” He asks, holding your waist, and you shake your head. When you notice the pout on his pretty lips, all your worries about ruining it between the two of you disappear, replaced with something like excitement now. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He traces his fingers over your waist carefully, his eyes falling to your sweats. When he remembers you’re not wearing anything underneath, he smirks, and his still untouched cock twitches a little. “Okay,” he nods, looking up at you again. You smile, unable to stop thinking about what this all means for your relationship as you leave his apartment.

There’s a smile on your lips as you walk through the streets, remembering how he looked at you just moments before, how he held you and continued being sweet through it all. For the first time in a long time, you’re just happy. You don’t worry about what’s going to happen next and if you’ll be able to figure it out. Because you know you will. You will figure everything out with Mingyu’s help, and you’ll smile widely throughout all your future dates because now, they’ll be just for you. No one else, no pretend, just you and him, falling for one another.

♡⸝⸝

Waking up feels easier the next morning. And you’re pretty sure it has something to do with the incredible orgasm Mingyu brought you to last night. It’s been a while since you felt like this—taken care of, cared for. You weren’t used to it, so seeing someone give it to you so effortlessly now felt like a dream. A part of you wonders when you’ll wake up from it, when will the beautiful dream turn into a terrible nightmare once again, but you do your best pushing those thoughts aside, reminding yourself you deserve this.

You move around your apartment, humming to a song stuck in your head. You have a class in an hour and then two more in the afternoon, but it doesn’t bother you at all. Why? Because you woke up to your boyfriend wishing you good morning. You take out a yogurt from your fridge, setting it on the counter before grabbing your phone to look at what else he said. You smile, assuring him you slept well and you’re feeling good. His answer comes almost immediately.

You get ready with a soft melody playing in the background, still as radiant as when you woke up. You’re convinced the day couldn’t get better. Just the fact you knew you were meeting him later today made you excited.

You grab your phone when you finish dressing up, skipping through a few songs before you find one that you like and opening your messages app. The group chat has been silent since yesterday afternoon, but as soon as you ask if they don’t want to grab lunch with you, they all answer. Turns out, Sujin already has plans with Chan, which also leads to Dani having to take Chan’s dance lesson and not having enough time to go out for lunch. Veronica is also busy, but that doesn’t surprise you. She’s been swamped with work for the last few days.

Fortunately, Joshua and Seokmin were planning to go on their traditional lunch meeting (that actually happens almost every day) either way, so an extra person to their plans wasn’t a problem. Min doesn’t miss his chance, asking if you are looking to go to Mingyu’s restaurant again. You roll your eyes at him, unable to hide your smile. Yeah, you don’t think there’s a place you’d rather eat at anymore.

You meet with Joshua as soon as your lesson finishes. He comes to pick you up since his studio is close, and you go meet Seokmin at the theatre together. It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but it was always just to watch a play. You’ve never been backstage before, so your eyes wander as soon as you step inside. Joshua greets one of the producers, as if he’s done this a thousand times before and you silently follow behind him, smiling at everyone and hoping you can get out as soon as possible so you wouldn’t be so embarrassed anymore.

It’s probably because of the amount of people present, but you feel like everyone is watching you, evaluating you. It’s uncomfortable, but you’re used to that. What you’re not used to is the overbearing want of Mingyu by your side to hold your hand and assure you no one actually cares what you do, how you walk, or how you talk.

“Hi,” Joshua greets a lady nearby, dressed in a beige tank top and olive-green, loose skirt. You think you recognize her from one of the plays you saw with Sujin last year. She greets him back with a smile, saying something to Min before disappearing to talk to someone else. His eyes follow her until Joshua wraps his arm around his shoulders with a smirk and brings him back to reality. That’s when you connect the dots, your eyes widening as you try to catch another glimpse of her. It has to be the famous co-star you’ve heard so much about.

“Let’s go, my lunch break is not endless,” Seokmin stops you before you can ask anything, escaping Joshua’s side hug. Unlike his co-star, he isn’t dressed in any stage clothes, and so you’re free to go right away.

It takes barely five minutes for Seokmin to start talking about theatre again, this time going into details about the scene in Hadestown that they were rehearsing before lunch. You listen to his every word with a smile, walking with him in the bag while Joshua leads the way. Apparently he knows everything about the entire play by now as he’s spent too much time with Min. You just shake your head at him, ignoring his comments about Min having a never closing mouth and focus on what he has to say instead.

You barely register it when you get to Mingyu’s restaurant, too deep in your conversation to notice. You trust Joshua not to lead you into some shady aisle so you don’t have to look where you’re going anyway.

Joshua stops mid door, his eyes widening as he looks inside the restaurant, turning around quicker than he’s ever done before, managing to bump into you and Seokmin. You frown, questioning what he’s doing. “I’m not sure. The smell of all the food just made me really sick. I think something is getting to me, maybe we should just go home. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly take out a water bottle from your bag. “Here, drink this. I swear you were okay just a minute ago, what happened?” You ask, the worry obvious from the look in your eyes. Min jumps in as well, frowning slightly as he eyes Joshua up and down. Yeah, what did happen? He was perfectly fine just now. “Let me get Mingyu. He might have some pills. Or he can at least give us another water, there’s not much left in mine.” — “Wait!”

“Stop her somehow,” Joshua hisses at Seokmin, making his eyes widen. But before either of the boys can move, you’re already walking into the restaurant, stopping right after the door closes behind you and your eyes fall on the man you came here to look for. There he is, leaning against the counter in his apron, shaking his head with a laugh, while a girl stands opposite him. A girl that looks a little too similar to Haeun.

You blink, thinking it’s just your head playing tricks on you, but when you look again, she’s still there. This time, you even catch a glimpse of her side profile, confirming it really is her. Mingyu takes out a little note from behind the counter, handing it to her along with a coke.

You turn on your heel, unable to say anything as you step outside again, not even meeting the boys’ eyes. You can picture pretty well what they look like either way—sorry, as if it was their fault. “You don’t actually feel sick, do you?” You meet Joshua’s eyes and he shakes his head. You sigh, walking closer to them. Seokmin immediately wraps his arms around you without saying anything, glancing worriedly at Joshua.

“Maybe it’s not anything,” Joshua tries to brighten up the mood. “She could just be a regular and they are used to joking around with each other. Or maybe it’s a friend, like us?” You shake your head, glancing into the restaurant once more. “She’s his ex,” you mumble an answer and Joshua shuts up immediately. Alright, yeah, that definitely wasn’t the greatest.

Fuck.

It was all going so good, you were convinced it was going to be different this time, that Mingyu could be the one for you, and now you just feel stupid, fighting back tears while one of your best friends hugs you. Today was supposed to be perfect. You were supposed to talk to Mingyu about what happened last night and agree that you don’t need to fake your dating anymore, but no.

Turns out, you played his fake girlfriend so good it actually worked exactly how he planned from the start. You weren’t going on any dates, and he was getting back with his ex.

Because apparently, that’s how it’s supposed to be with the two of you.

Right. How could you ever believe anything else?

♡⸝⸝

“I can’t believe it. I actually liked that guy.”

“I never imagined he would do something like that.”

“I swear I’m going to kill him.”

You didn’t expect for everyone to find out so soon. But, who are you trying to trick? It was obvious your friends were going to find out sooner or later when Min and Shua were with you. You just thought you’d have a little more time to prepare yourself, not that Sujin and Chan would rush to your apartment without a single care in the word that they are supposed to be on a date.

The look in Sujin’s eyes scares you. You’re not sure how far she’s actually willing to go, but something is telling you not to ignore her when she says she’s going to kill someone.

The four of them—Joshua on the floor because he claims it’s more comfortable—sit around you, already planning the perfect murder, when you finally interrupt them. “Can someone get the ice cream from my freezer and then stuff their mouth with it so I don’t have to listen to all this anymore?”

They all send you a look and you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and becoming one with the couch. “Seriously, can we please just talk about anything else? Min! Your play! Surely there is still something you haven’t told us about.” You don’t even get to finish your sentence before all three of them groan, making Seokmin roll his eyes.

“No, I need to go kill him right now. He can’t be fucking serious. With Haeun too! Even if he for some reason still has feelings for her, he can’t just cheat when he has the most gorgeous girlfriend in the entire world,” Sujin grumbles and you swallow a lump in your throat, looking down onto your lap. You might be feeling like shit right now, but that doesn’t mean you want your friends to think of Mingyu as a cheater, or even worse, take him down to Chun’s level.

“Technically, I’m not his girlfriend so he can’t cheat,” you mumble. “What do you mean?” Chan frowns, looking around to see if anyone else understands. “It’s complicated.”

“O-oh,” Sujin shakes her head. “I don’t like the sound of that. What does that mean?” You sigh, refusing to meet their eyes. “We kind of…played the whole thing,” you admit.

“I think I need to talk to my producer and tell her about you,” Seokmin jokes, but no one laughs. When he realizes it’s not a joke and you mean what you said, his smile drops as well. “Like the whole thing?”

“Well, most of it, I guess,” you nod. “Okay, you better explain in great detail what the hell happened,” Sujin stares you down, waiting. She’s not mad at you, you know that, but this might be worse. She looks disappointed, betrayed.

You avert your eyes from them, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap as you retell the story of you and Mingyu, from the very first date you went on, to now. You explain how it all started, and what your goal was all along. You tell them how you went on dates just to make it more believable and then, somewhere along the way, you started catching feelings.

“And I knew I shouldn’t expect anything. I tried, I really did, to push those thoughts aside and focus on literally anything else but he just… it’s impossible not to feel loved around him. It’s impossible not to like him and act like my head doesn’t spin any time I’m around him. It hurts. It hurts in possibly the best way when I’m with him, but then it hurts even more when I’m not. I just feel sick.”

Sujin pulls you into a hug and you rest your head on her shoulder, letting her play with your hair gently. “I was okay with it hurting, though. I knew what I was up for but last night,” your voice cracks and you feel tears building in your eyes. You take a deep breath. “What we talked about at dinner,” you mumble so only Sujin understands, too embarrassed to say it out loud for the guys to know as well. “I mentioned it to him and then we kind of… anyway, I just thought that maybe I was wrong after all. I thought that it could work, that maybe Haeun wasn’t who he wanted anymore and I had a real chance but turns out…”

You don’t finish your sentence. You can’t. Instead, you let the silence of your apartment settle in, breathing in the heavy air. It’s like that for a bit—you, in Sujin’s arms, letting her comfort her while the guys think about what their next move will be. But you can’t stay in peace forever, and the silence soon gets interrupted with a call on your phone.

You raise your head slightly, reaching into your pocket for your phone. As soon as you do, and you notice the person calling you, you drop it down into your lap, resting your head back down. You see the guys frown, looking at each other like they were reading one’s mind. You can see right through them too, knowing they don’t like what’s happening.

“I’m not talking to him right now,” you mumble. “Good. You shouldn’t,” Sujin agrees, her grip tightening around you. As if she might be able to take some of the pain from you if she just holds tight enough. You don’t mind, anxiously looking at your phone. You want to pick up. You want to ask what’s going on and hear his explanation, but you can’t. You worry you’d cry if you hear his voice now.

As soon as the ringing stops, your phone buzzes with a new message, then another. You pick it back up, opening the chat with Mingyu to see what he needs. Your heart aches as soon as you do, grateful to Sujin for taking it away from you. She reads the messages, narrowing her eyes before clearing her throat and reading it out loud for the boys to hear as well. “I’m on a break and miss you. Do you have class right now? If so, just call me whenever you’re free, I’ll make time for you, baby.” She cringes at the nickname, you can hear that in her voice as she reads. But unlike her, you manage to fall for him a little deeper again, even though you know you shouldn’t.

“He can’t be serious,” Chan mumbles, taking the phone from his girlfriend to see for himself. Before you can even blink, your phone is being passed around. You sigh, not saying anything and just watching them. You know that if you told them how you feel at the moment—that it hurts, that your chest aches, but also that a part of you wants him more than before—they’d probably just slap you to make you snap out of it. You wouldn’t blame them if they did. Maybe that’s what you need.

“Give me the phone. I’ll say something to him,” Sujin reaches her hand out but you shake your head, asking Joshua not to give it to her. You don’t even want to know what she’d tell Mingyu right now if she got the chance.

“How about this,” Joshua starts, putting your phone away on the table. “I don’t have to go back to the studio today, I can just tell my producer we’ll finish recording tomorrow, so I can stay and we can watch a movie. Get your mind off this whole situation and just relax with us for the rest of the day, hm?”

“I need to leave in like ten minutes but I can come back later,” Seokmin agrees. Chan and Sujin don’t even hesitate, immediately nodding as well. They already left their date anyway, so they don’t see a reason not to stay now.

“You shouldn’t be cancelling your plans for me,” you shake your head, but they shut you down with a simple look. “We want to be here with you. That’s what friends are for,” Sujin reminds you. “To be here when a shitty man messes up,” her lips curve into a small smile, hoping to make you feel at least a little better with a joke.

“Thank you,” you smile. “We can have lunch here then? Order something?” You suggest and Joshua immediately admits that he’s been starving. You laugh, a soft sound that fills the quiet room. You catch Sujin smiling as well. But she’s not looking at Shua. She’s looking at you, the urge to kill Mingyu right then and there washing off when she sees you laugh again. Because that’s what matters to her right now—making sure you don’t fall into the same dark place you did after Chun.

Sujin grabs Chan as soon as Seokmin leaves your apartment to get back to work, assuring you they will make lunch together and you can just sit still and relax. You don’t argue with her, letting her do whatever she wants. Joshua gets up from the floor and sits down beside you, “I’m sorry,” hanging on the tip of his tongue. But he knows that’s not what you want to hear so he just stays silent, watching you grab your phone.

“Are you going to text him?” He wonders. You hesitate for a second before nodding. “I’m just going to tell him I’m with you guys and I can’t see him today after all. I promised him I’d see him later.” Joshua nods, watching your fingers move across the keyboard as you do what you just told him. You apologize quickly, saying that you’re with your friends at your apartment and probably will be for the rest of the day. His answers come immediately, telling you he hopes you have fun and that you can call when they’re gone.

You don’t answer those, leaving them on read.

“I feel like I lost my mind,” you sigh, leaning back and closing your eyes. “Or have I always been this stupid?” — “You’re not stupid,” Joshua interrupts you immediately. “And it’s not your fault you keep meeting men that suck. Or well, I don’t think I can call either of them men when they act like boys.” You chuckle, cracking one eye open and stealing a glance at him. “Thank you.”

“No need,” he shakes his head. He mimics your movements, resting his head against the back of the couch and watching you, his eyes wandering all over your face as if he was trying to see right through you. “What about your afternoon classes? Don’t you have any today?”

“I do,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m just not going to go. I might regret it later when I fail and my future is ruined but who cares.”

“You care,” he reminds you, and you hate how much your friends know you. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to focus even if I did,” you admit, slowly letting your hands fall back to your sides. “I like this better, staying with you guys and watching something.”

“I think you should talk to him too,” Joshua says quietly, unsure if it’s the right time for his advice or if it’s still too soon. You nod, and so he continues. “Not right now, obviously. But, when you clear your head. I think it might help. No matter if you walk away from it with a boyfriend or not, it can give you the closure you need.”

“I know. I’ll talk to him. Eventually.”

You spend the rest of your afternoon cuddled up on the couch beside Sujin and later Veronica when she comes after work. Seokmin comes back when his shot is finished as well, and you all end up sprawled around your living room, laughing at silly jokes and eating snacks Chan found hidden in your kitchen cabinets. It’s perfect. As perfect as a healing night after a heartbreak can be.

Well, at least until the knock comes at your door, of course.

“I’ll get it. It’s probably Daniela,” Seokmin jumps up from the floor, almost knocking over your entire coffee table. You shoot him a look but he just laughs, mumbling an apology and running away before you can throw something at him. “Someone move the table so he doesn’t break it when he sits down again,” Sujin shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

“Where have you been for so long?” Seokmin asks as he opens the door, freezing when he notices a figure that’s far from being similar to Daniela’s. His excitement quickly disappears, replaced by annoyance now. He looks ahead, but it feels like he’s watching right through the person behind the door, as if just standing there bothered him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys would still be here,” Mingyu mumbles, leaning forward slightly and looking inside the apartment to see everyone in the living room. He raises his hand with takeout food, smiling innocently. “I came to see–”

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Seokmin interrupts before he can finish his sentence, making Gyu blink confusedly. “What do you mean?”

“Min, what are you still doing there?” Sujin calls after him. “If you’re sharing secrets with Dani then that’s not very cool!” As soon as she finishes and looks over at the door to see them, her smile falls. “Oh hell no,” she mutters, motioning for you to raise your head off her shoulder so she can get up. You listen, blinking at her confusedly as she stands up and makes her way towards the front door.

You all turn her way, realizing what’s going on when you notice Mingyu towering over both of them, confused why everyone’s being so rude to him when all he wanted to do was surprise his girlfriend with dinner he cooked.

“Sujin, let him be,” you sigh but it’s already too late.

“Let me just ask you something real quick before I slam the door in your face,” she says, pushing Seokmin aside and blocking the doorway herself. Mingyu looks down at her, trying to read her. He doesn’t get the chance to ask what’s going on before she’s already speaking again. “Do you remember what one of the first things I told you about my best friend was? The one thing I said was the most important and I’d kill you for it?”

He blinks, lost. “You said…” he thinks for a second, tilting his head in confusion. “Not to hurt her? You told me that she was the kindest girl you know and that she deserves just the best in the world, and that if I ever treat her in a way I wouldn’t want my daughter to be treated as well, you’d kill me with your own two hands.”

“Great! Got it word for word,” she grins. Mingyu watches her, slowly taking a step back. There’s something terrifying about the way she speaks to him, and he knows he’d be dumb to rile her up even more now. “Look, I’m not sure what I did or why you’re mad at me but can you just give this to her if you’re not going to let me see her? I don’t want her to go to bed without eating anything.”

Sujin takes the takeout food from him, her eyes narrow as she watches him, waiting for him to leave. He sighs, looking over her shoulder once more and finding you with his eyes. Your name leaves his lips, making your heart ache as you meet his eyes. He simply smiles, not asking for anything in return, not expecting anything. Something you both agreed on from the start, no expectations. “Have a fun night. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

And he does. He knocks on your door on his way to work, even though you don’t open. After a few minutes of hanging by the door, you finally open the door to find another bag with takeout. Breakfast this time.

You go to your lessons soon after, doing your best to keep your eyes on the teacher and listen to everything he says. Mingyu texts you all morning, but you don’t have the heart to tell him to give you some space. Instead, you just silence your phone, looking at it again once you get to the Choi’s house to look after the twins.

“You look sad,” Aecha comments, making you look up from your phone again. You force a smile, shaking your head. “It’s nothing, baby.”

“Is it about the boy from last time?” Minjee asks, standing right beside her sister, You chuckle at how adorable they look, assuring them it will all be okay and they don’t have to worry about you. The twin girls exchange a look before wrapping their arms around you, swallowing you in a tight hug. It feels like a weight is being lifted off your chest as you wrap your arms around them, exhaling for what feels like the first time in weeks.

“Make sure that when you like a boy he’s definitely worth it, okay?” You say when you pull back and both girls nod. “You’re both incredible and I hope you’ll find someone who loves you right.”

“Does your boyfriend not love you right?” Aecha tilts her head and you chuckle. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“But mom said you can’t babysit us every day because you have a boyfriend who would miss you if you only hung out with us,” she explains, frowning slightly. “And she didn’t lie,” you assure her. “I have school just like you girls, and friends that I love hanging out with so I can’t be with you all the time even though I’d love to.”

“But if you don’t have a boyfriend, who made you this sad?” Minjee wonders. “It’s nothing, really. I’m not sad. How could I be when I’m hanging out with you two?”

“A boy is calling you,” Aecha proclaims and your eyes widen immediately as you look at your phone that you put aside. Fuck, she’s right. There is a boy calling you. “Can I pick it up?” You blink at her, your mouth falling open and then closing again. She holds your phone in her hands, too cute for you to be able to refuse. You nod slightly and she accepts the call without hesitation, bringing it to her ear.

“Choi Aecha speaking,” she introduces herself, creating a smile on your face again.

Mingyu blinks confusedly upon hearing the kid’s voice, looking at his phone to make sure he dialed the right number. “Hi, Aecha. This is Mingyu.” He doesn’t ask why she has your phone or who she is, simply asking if he could speak to you. To his surprise, she refuses. And in return, she asks him a question. “Are you the one that made Sunny sad?”

“Sunny?” He frowns, checking the phone number again. He is calling your phone. “Yes, our nanny. Her smile is warm like the sun, you know? She’s sad because of a boy.” You watch her, refusing to break down in front of her even though that’s exactly what you want to do. If anyone ever asks you why you love working with kids again, you’ll just tell them about this moment.

Your name leaves Mingyu’s lips to assure himself he is talking about the same person as she is and when she agrees, a heavy sigh leaves his lips. “She’s sad because of me?” — “I think so,” she agrees. “I never wanted that. Can you tell her that, Aecha? Please?”

“I’m supposed to tell you he never wanted you to be sad,” she passed the message and you nod. Aecha watches you for a second, deciding what her next move should be. “Do you want to talk with him?”

Mingyu straightens upon hearing that, swallowing a lump in his throat. He’s so close. So close to finally hearing your voice again. And when he finally does, when a soft hello leaves your lips, he feels like the whole world slows down.

“Hi.”

“I, uhm, I’m babysitting right now as you might have guessed. So maybe, call me again later?” Aecha crosses her arms over her chest in disapproval and Minjee mimics her movements. “Talk to him now!” They encourage you. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Wait! Can we– Please don’t hang up on me,” he stops you before you can do anything. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting for him to say more.

A beat of silence goes by before he finds it in himself to ask, looking around the almost empty restaurant as he leans at the counter—completely in the barista’s way, but he doesn’t care enough about that at the moment. “Are you sad because of me? Because of something I did? If it’s about the night, if– If you don’t like me please just tell me.”

“I don’t want to lie to you,” is all you say, glancing at the girls in front of you, watching you, waiting for what’s going to happen next. You sit down on the couch behind you, patting the spot beside you to tell them they should join you. “Then don’t,” he nods. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s on your mind, what’s bothering you. It eats me alive not knowing what is happening and how I can fix things.”

Your chest hurts when you listen to him. You close your eyes, replaying the moment you saw him in the restaurant with Haeun in your head. You’re sure it was her. You looked at her pictures so much, wondered if he’d like you more if you looked like her, that you’re certain you recognized her. So why does it feel like he truly has no idea what happened?

You thought you were immune to manipulation after all those years with Chun, that you could see right through it now and protect yourself from it, but maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were wrong about a lot of things. Maybe Mingyu isn’t all that great like you thought. Maybe this was the universe throwing another lesson your way to see if you learnt anything from the one before all along.

Turns out, you learnt nothing.

Because if you did, you wouldn’t have fallen for Mingyu. You would have turned your back to him on your first date and ran away as far as you possibly could.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” you mumble, trying to protect yourself at least now. “You just said you don’t want to lie to me,” he deadpans. You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing at the girls. “How about you pick something to watch, hm?” You encourage them, your voice softer now. It makes Mingyu feel even worse. He wishes you’d talk to him the same way. He wishes he could turn back time to a few days ago when you didn’t hate him yet. That’s all he wants to do. That’s all he’ll ever want. For you not to hate him.

“I’m going to take this to the bathroom but I’ll be right back, okay? Just pick something to watch,” you smile at them, not waiting for their arguments and just disappearing. You slide your back on the bathroom door, a heavy sigh escaping your lips when you hit the floor.

“It’s really nothing. I was just stupid. You shouldn’t bother with me, you shouldn’t be calling me and asking me how I’m doing. I get it, Mingyu, really. She’s pretty. God, she’s gorgeous, I know that. And I get it. You should be with her. So just…let’s stop pretending, okay? Let’s break this off and not force ourselves into anything when you finally have what you wanted,” you say, quickly wiping away the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He quickly apologizes to the waitress when she tries to move past him, dismissing her when she tries to ask him about some dish on the menu, making his way to the kitchen and then storage room, closing the door behind himself so he is alone. “What– I don’t get it. Who are you talking about? What pretend–” He freezes, the rest of his sentence catching in his throat. He says your name, making sure you know he’s talking to you, that he means it. “I haven’t been pretending anything since we held hands for the first time.”

“I have to go,” you blurt out. “I am working. I need to be with the girls.”

“Wait! Baby, I–” he gets interrupted by a loud beep in his ear, letting him know you hung up. “Fuck,” he curses, running a hand through his hair. This couldn’t have gone worse.

♡⸝⸝

The following week feels harder than your finals week. A week of constant avoiding, ignoring his messages, his calls, even his attempt to try and sooth things with you through Jeonghan who knocks on your door on Wednesday.

You send him away, but he expected as much. He wishes you good luck and says he hopes you don’t hate Mingyu too much before leaving. It’s stupid. You don’t think you could hate him even if you wanted to. Maybe that’s why it hurts more.

Your friends spend as much time with you as possible during the week, refusing to give you any alone time after you accidentally thanked them for being with you on Monday and admitting you didn’t want to be alone at the moment.

“If there is one thing I learnt from books, it’s that the main characters are never sad for too long,” Jiwoo, your friend from college says as she leads you to a café shop between classes. “You’re either going to be introduced to a new love interest soon, or you guys are going to resolve it and live your happily ever after.”

You scoff quietly, following her into the café. “Or, and now pay attention,” you start. “I’m not a main character in a romance book and this was my lesson to finally live by what I said a year ago and never date again.”

“Bullshit,” she shakes her head. “If anything, my cousin saw you in one of my posts and thinks you’re really pretty–”

“Please,” you interrupt her, looking up at her. “I don’t want anyone to set me up with the greatest guy they know again. I’ve really had enough. I’ll be okay again but I just need to be alone first, yeah?” She nods, closing her mouth. You smile at her, a quiet thank you leaving your lips as you walk into the café.

You barely look around at first, talking with Jiwoo and your last class and briefly helping her understand the material while you stand in the line, scanning the menu on the wall with your eyes. “Okay but does that connect anyhow to the material from–”

“Let me get this,” a guy pushes in front of you, cutting in line when you finally get to the counter. Normally, you wouldn’t have the energy to argue and would let it go, but you recognize the voice a little too well. Your eyes widen, and you watch his back as you try to get your head back to earth. “I’ll get an americano,” he turns to face you, an insufferable smirk on his lips. One that you hate with your whole body. “She’ll also get one.” He then turns to Jiwoo, eyeing her for a second as if he was annoyed she was there before asking if she also wants something.

“She doesn’t want anything. We’re leaving,” you answer instead, averting your eyes from him and holding her hand. You’re not confident enough to look him in the eyes. Because every time you do, you remember the years spent together. The years of nothing but pain. “Who is–” Jiwoo doesn’t get to finish her question before Chun straightens his back and offers her his hand with his name, introducing himself as your boyfriend.

“Far from that. My ex-boyfriend. And we are leaving,” you beg her with your eyes and she nods, apologizing to the barista for keeping her occupied before pulling you from the line. To your luck, that isn’t enough to shake him off. He follows you outside, ignoring as the barista calls after him, asking if he’s going to pay for those drinks.

“Is that the ex?” Jiwoo whispers to you and you nod, glancing back to find him still following you. “Fuck,” you curse, quickly taking out your phone. “I’m not sure what he needs but it can’t be anything good.” He calls after you, asking for you to stop and talk to him like normal people instead of running away. You don’t answer him, already dialing Sujin’s phone. Chan, Daniela, Seokmin and Veronica are definitely working right now, so if she doesn’t pick up your only other option is Joshua.

“Come on! Don’t be a baby! Just talk to me!” You squeeze Jiwoon’s hand tighter and she immediately starts walking faster, yelling at him to get lost. “Are you seriously going to hide behind your friends again?! I’ve been trying to find you everywhere! You can’t just disappear!”

The call doesn’t go through and you quickly try to find Joshua in your contacts. You know Jiwoo doesn’t have her car with herself right now but you need to get away. Anywhere. As long as he won’t be there.

Joshua picks up on the second ring. “Hi. Is something going on?” He asks right away. Instead of answering, you gasp. Chun grabs your wrist, yanking you from Jiwoo and forcing you to look at him. You can hear Joshua asking you what’s going on but you can’t answer now. Not when he grips your hand so tightly. “Can we just fucking talk now?”

Joshua hangs up the call as soon as he recognizes Chun’s voice and you’re left alone again. Great. Absolutely amazing. “Man, what do you not understand about a no? We told you to get lost,” Jiwoo steps in front of you but it’s no use. Neither you or she have enough strength to deal with him. As long as he’s holding you, you’re screwed.

You try to wiggle away, but his grip only tightens, reminding you you can do nothing against him. It’s scary, more than anyone probably realizes. When you know what he can do, what he’s done to you before, it’s pretty fucking terrifying. Before Jiwoo can say anything else, he pushes her away. “Don’t touch her,” you hiss immediately, making him laugh. “Or what? Come on, princess, you know you’re not stronger than me. You never knew how to fight.”

“Leave her alone and I’ll talk to you,” you mumble, glancing at Jiwoo to assure her it’s okay. Even though it’s far from it. His grip relaxes a bit, but not enough for you to be able to get away. Your eyes fall to your wrist, watching his hand nervously. It’ll leave a bruise.

“See, I knew you weren’t stupid,” he grins. You don’t meet his eyes again, looking at your phone when it lights up with a new message from Joshua. He didn’t leave you to deal with it on your own, you realize. You feel somehow calmer as you read his message, knowing that sooner or later you’ll be able to get away. He informs you that he is out of town but already called someone else to help. Now, you just have to hope they’ll find you on this campus.

You’re not sure who he’s texted, but it’s more likely that Chan is available at the moment. Seokmin has been busier and busier lately, spending more time at the theatre than not. “But we’ll talk here. In public,” you state your conditions quickly and he simply shrugs.

“I’m not going to leave you alone with him,” Jiwoo shakes her head. “It’s okay,” you assure her, glancing at Chun before focusing back on her. You lower your voice so he doesn’t hear you, “Take my phone and call Joshua. Tell him where we are. It’ll be fine soon. I’ll keep him busy before he gets here.”

She nods, swallowing nervously and taking your phone in her hands. She watches you as you point to a nearby bench, telling Chun to go there. As soon as you start walking, his hand slips into yours and disgust takes over you. You can’t wait to get into Chan’s car and drive as far away from here as possible.

♡⸝⸝

Freaking out doesn’t seem like a strong enough emotion.

The moment Mingyu gets a message from one of your friends on instagram, he frowns. He leans back against the sink, opening the app. He expects a lot—mean words, curses, even a random favor maybe—but what he doesn’t expect is for Joshua to ask him to pick you up because you might be in danger.

He doesn’t hesitate, pressing the call button as he takes off his apron and rushes out of the kitchen, leaving his workers standing there confusedly. “Tell me you’re joking,” he says instead of a greeting, already making his way out of the restaurant to his car. “I wish I was,” Joshua sighs, a loud honk of his car echoing through the phone. “If I was in town I would pick her up myself but I can’t get there any sooner than in an hour. Everyone else is working as well so you were my last option.”

One of his hands falls to his thigh, gripping it tightly, steading himself. He should have been the first person you called. He should be the one there for you when you need someone. He should–

“She should be on campus somewhere. At least I hope so otherwise I have no idea how to find her,” Joshua’s voice brings him back to reality and he quickly connects the call to his car, already fastening his seatbelt. “What happened?” He asks when he starts thinking straight again, already driving off. It doesn’t matter he has no clue where. All that matters is getting to you as soon as possible.

“It’s a long story and I don’t think I should be the one to tell you but there used to be a guy in her life that not only treated her like shit, but was also dangerous to her. When she called me, I heard him in the background. I don’t know how he found her or what’s happening but I’m not risking anything. Not again.”

Mingyu’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, gritting his teeth together. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How has he not heard about this sooner? Then another thought flashes through his mind. Is it the guy you’ve been in a relationship with before? Were you with someone who treated you like shit and put you in danger for three years? “I’ll get her,” he promises. “I’ll find her.” He’s not sure if he’s convincing Joshua or himself but he can’t be bothered with that now.

It’s now that he hates himself more than ever. Now that he regrets messing things up with you. This exact moment where all he wants to do is hold you close and apologize for everything he’s ever done.

He doesn’t keep Joshua on the call any longer, hanging up on him when he stops at a red light and dialing you instead, praying to every god he can that you’ll pick up. As soon as the call goes through, a sign of relief washes over him. You’re safe. You’re okay. “Please tell me you’re fine. I’m on my way already I just– Are you okay? Where are you?” His voice is panicked, the anxiety he felt seconds ago coming back when you don’t answer.

“I, uhm, I’m Jiwoo. I–” Her voice breaks, and if Mingyu was nervous before, his heart must be in his throat now. There’s no way of knowing if you’re safe if you don’t even have your phone. Fuck. He wants to yell, punch his steering wheel and panic, but he knows that’s not going to help. “You’re the guy Joshua said he called, right? We are on campus right now, near the cafeteria and library. We’re in front of a café, it’s the only one here.”

“Are you with her? Is she okay?”

“She asked me to leave them and call Joshua again but I can see her. She’s…as safe as she can be right now.”

He exhales, asking Jiwoo to send him the exact location. She does so without hesitation and he immediately follows the map, taking the quickest route he can. He doesn’t care that you’re not talking to him at the moment. He’d be a fool to keep you waiting any longer than necessary.

Mingyu curses at himself as soon as he steps out of the car, following the map on his phone. He should have just parked in the middle of the road so he could get to you faster. He runs through the campus, looking around to see if he can find you with his eyes as he gets closer. He’s sure he looks stupid. Everyone around him definitely thinks so.

But that doesn’t matter. Not when he finally catches a glimpse of you on a bench, looking obviously uncomfortable as a guy he’s never seen before holds your hand and talks your ears off. Relief washes over him again as he approaches you, glad that you didn’t let him take you away while he was in the car.

“Excuse me,” Mingyu clears his throat, catching your attention immediately. Your eyes widen when you notice him and he quickly gives you one of his soft, reassuring smiles before turning his head towards the guy, his smile immediately fading. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch my girlfriend.”

Chun eyes him up and down, his eyes lingering on Mingyu’s biceps for a second before releasing your hand. Your whole body seems to relax when he does, your shoulder visibly less tense now. “Let’s go, baby,” Mingyu offers you his hand, like he has many times before, and for a second you completely forget you’re not speaking with him at the moment. You hold his hand, letting him help you up on your feet.

“Wait, we haven’t finished talking,” Chun argues and Mingyu pins him down with one glare. “I think you are. We have plans and I don’t want you involved in those,” he smiles, but there is nothing sweet behind it. It’s as fake as a smile can be, making sure Chun knows he isn’t here to be friendly, or even civil, with him.

Mingyu leans down to you, still holding your hand so you know he’s there. “Go get your phone and stay with Jiwoo, okay? I’ll handle this and come for you.” You nod, letting your eyes linger on his before you step back, refusing to look at Chun again as you walk away, leaving the two of them alone.

“You’re her boyfriend?” Chun frowns, standing up so he doesn’t feel as small. He is still shorter than Mingyu but there’s nothing he can do about that. So he just straightens his back and looks up, acting as if he was the bigger man. “Yeah,” Mingyu shrugs, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. “And I heard a few things about you I really didn’t like.”

That seems to move him. He takes a small step backwards when he sees the anger in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he argues and Mingyu pins him down with his glare again. “Alright, let me help you understand then. You know, I don’t like people that are being an ass to my girl. So we can now go two different ways. Either, I’ll beat you up right now for all the shit you put her through,” Mingyu starts, watching the fear flash through Chun’s eyes. “Or I can let you off the hook for once, if I know you won’t ever—and I mean ever—be near her again. You’re not going to bother her again or even look her way. So, what is it going to be?”

Mingyu never thought of himself as scary or creepy, even though he knew his looks could sometimes make it seem like he was. He never imagined he’d threaten someone or physically fight with them either but it turns out, he’d do so anytime without hesitation for you. He wants to look scary, wants to make sure the guy knows he means it when he says not to come near you again.

“Relax, man,” he grumbles, glancing your way. You’re looking at them as well, but your eyes are glued to Mingyu’s figure, not his. “I wasn’t trying to do anything. We were just talking. You know, for old times sake.”

Mingyu grips Chun’s shoulder. To anyone walking around, it might seem like a friendly conversation, just two guys supporting each other. But in reality, Mingyu squeezes his shoulder so hard Chun squirms under his touch. “Don’t touch my girl ever again,” he warns him one last time before letting his hand fall back to his side. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t listen to what he has to say either, simply walking away to where you’ve been waiting for him.

“Thank you for staying here with her,” Mingyu smiles at who he assumes to be Jiwoo when he reaches you and her. She nods, assuring him it’s nothing. His eyes then fall to you, his eyes softening. “Have you got class?” You nod, glancing behind his shoulder to see Chun still standing there, still watching you. “But I don’t want to go. I want to go home.”

“Then let’s get you home,” he says softly, offering you his hand again. You hold it. Intertwining your fingers with his, you say your goodbyes to Jiwoo and apologize for the mess you caused. She assures you it’s not your fault, briefly glancing at Mingyu before giving you an approving smile. You shake your head at her. You want to tell her that it’s not like that, that whatever you and Mingyu had is over now, but you can’t.

Instead, you let Mingyu guide you through your campus to his car without a single word.

The car ride is quiet. You text Joshua and assure him everything is okay now, thanking him for texting Mingyu. You also let Sujin know she doesn’t need to call you back whenever she gets to her phone again because you don’t need anything anymore, promising you’ll talk to her later and catch her up. Neither of them answer immediately.

Mingyu doesn’t ask you any questions, which you’re grateful for, but you know they’ll come sooner or later. You can’t avoid him forever. And maybe this is your sign to finally sit down with him and talk to him, ask how he is doing and maybe even be happy for him and Haeun—even though that’d be a stretch.

“Thank you,” you whisper when he stops in front of your apartment building. The same parking spot he parked in after your first date, you realize. It’s a detail so unimportant you want to slap yourself for remembering it. “Anytime,” he mumbles, watching you. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t try to pry and ask what it was about or what your history with Chun is. He just sits there. With you.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” You ask finally, not meeting his eyes. A part of you wants him to say yes, hoping to finally get this over with and talk so you could move on, but a bigger part of you hopes he says no. You want to keep him away, avoid him, keep hurting. Because hurting means you feel something for him, and you don’t want to enter a story where you don’t feel anything for this man. “If you want me to,” he searches your face for an answer. You simply nod, barely registering what he said as you step outside, waiting for him to do the same.

You sit down in the corner of your couch, eyeing Mingyu as he moves around your apartment as if it was his daily routine. He brings you a blanket from your bedroom and you cuddle up in it, closing your eyes as you think about everything that happened, everything that is still happening. When you open your eyes again, there’s a cup of tea in front of you and he is sitting beside you on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “For getting you involved in my mess like this.”

“I want to be involved in your mess,” he says, his eyes soft. For a second there, you think you recognize the look in his eyes. You’ve seen the look in Sujin’s eyes when she looks at Chan, you’ve seen it in Joshua’s whenever he is around Veronica as well. For a moment, you mistake the look for a look of love. But that is a mistake. It has to be. Because there is no way in hell Kim Mingyu looks at you like that.

“I want to be around and help when you need it. I want you to call me when something happens and I want to be a part of your mess.” What is the best way to tell your fake boyfriend—fake ex boyfriend?—that you need him to shut up and not be so nice or you’ll end up crying?

“I don’t think Haeun would appreciate hearing you much,” you mumble. There it is again, the look on his face that makes you want to vanish into thin air and act like you don’t exist because he makes you feel so many things at once. “What do you mean? Why would I care what Haeun thinks about this?” He watches you as you take the tea he made, bringing it to your lips and avoiding his eyes. He’s confused, hoping to find anything that could help him understand what you’re talking about, what you’ve been talking about ever since you stopped talking to him, he realizes.

You sigh, putting the cup back down. “I saw you Mingyu,” you admit. “The day after we–” you stop yourself, looking down into your lap. “The day after our date at your place, I came to your restaurant for lunch with Joshua and Seokmin. We saw you with Haeun. I recognized her and I just– Watching you laugh with her helped me realize we don’t need to pretend anymore and I’d just stand in your way if I stayed.”

A heavy exhale leaves his lips, as if he just realized he’s been panicking for no reason at all. You look up, narrowing your eyes at him confusedly. “Please don’t lie to me, I’ve broken down over this enough already.” He moves closer to you without saying anything, brushing a few hair pieces off your face and tugging them behind your ear. “Baby, you’re so wrong. I’m not with her. I don’t want to be with her.”

Your breath catches in your throat, hands trembling as he cups your face, gazing into your eyes. You need to get away. You should really get away. But before you can do so, pull away, stand up, and run as far as you can, he presses his lips to yours. Your eyes widen and your whole body melts under his touch. You can’t think straight, not when he brings your face closer and his other hand finds your waist. “I want to be with you,” he whispers, pressing his lips back to yours right away. He easily picks you up and pulls you into his lap. This certainly isn’t how you expected your conversation to go.

“Wait,” you gasp when he bites your bottom lip, shaking. “Mingyu.” He pauses, looking up at you like a hurt puppy as he pulls back, his hands falling to his sides. He’s scared he messed up, that much is obvious. “I– I’m sorry,” he blurts out, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t realize I could be too much for you. I–”

“Mingyu, just shut up,” you interrupt him, pressing your palms to his chest to make him look at you again. “And talk to me.” His eyes widen, nodding. “Right. Right, sorry.” He takes a deep breath, his hands finding your waist to steady himself. You let him. For now. “I don’t want Haeun. I stopped wanting her a long time ago.”

I’m not sure when it happened but at one point, my feelings for her started to disappear and were replaced with feelings for you. Every time we went on a date, I couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty you were, how pretty you looked. I slowly fell for the glasses on your nose, the way you fidget with your fingers when you’re nervous, how your voice sounds softer when you talk to kids, and the mole on your neck.”

You listen without interruptions, trying to calm your racing heart. You expected everything, just not this. “What you saw that day was just a small part of what really happened,” he says, scanning your face with his eyes. “She came to talk to me in person because I’ve been ignoring her texts ever since I realized how I felt about you. At first I laughed, yes, because she told me she ran into wasted Seungkwan and he flirted with one of her friends. She said that it actually somehow worked and asked me for his number so she could give it to her friend.”

After that, when she finally got to the real reason she came, we fought. I took her into the kitchen because I didn’t want the entire restaurant watching us and told her we needed to stop whatever was between us because I have a new girlfriend. She didn’t like that and tried to, uhm” he tilts his head, uncomfortable at the memory. “She tried to push herself onto me but Minjoon stopped her before anything happened and took her out. We haven’t seen each other since.”

You really, really, expected everything except for this. You cup his face, every part of you breaking as you watch him. There’s no right thing you can say. “I’m sorry. I just wish I didn’t talk to her at all. I wanted to be there with you, I wanted to come home and be with you. I don’t think I wanted anything else for the past few weeks.” You lean down, pressing your forehead to his. “I am the one that’s sorry,” you whisper. His hands slide up your back as he pulls you into his warm embrace. “For not hearing you out immediately, for pushing you out when I– I was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t,” he shakes his head, placing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. “I don’t know what I’d do if I was in your place. You had every right to avoid me when I was hurting you. But please, I need you to know those weren’t my intentions at all.” — “I know,” you assure him. You can’t believe you were so, so incredibly wrong. You thought his feelings for Haeun were sealed, that you had no chance anymore and you’d just end up hurting. But turns out, you just ended up destroying your own chances at love.

“Want to tell me about your day?” He mumbles into your neck, still holding, still keeping you close. “About your class? Anything I missed out?” You raise your head, a soft smile spreading across your lips as you cup his cheek again. He smiles back at you, leaning into your warmth. “Don’t you want to hear about the guy from before?” He shrugs, kissing your palm. “Only if you want to talk about him,” he whispers.

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair to focus on something sweet for a second. “He is an ex of mine. The one I told you about earlier.” Mingyu nods, catching one of your hands in his own and lacing his fingers with yours. He’s there, and he needs you to know it. “I don’t really–” you hesitate, trying to sort out all your thoughts. How exactly are you supposed to explain to this perfect man that you were such an idiot you stayed in a relationship that made you terrified every other day for three years?

“Take it slow,” he smiles. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready.” You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I want to. I want you to understand.” He nods, waiting for you. However long you need him to. “When we first started dating, he was sweet. He cared for me, or at least made it seem like he did. I really liked him and thought we could grow old together all that,” you mumble, looking back at the time. Back then, it was all easy.

“But then it started to get…weird. We would fight more, he would yell at me and humiliate me any chance he got.” Mingyu squeezes your hand tighter, steadying himself so he wouldn’t rush out of your apartment immediately and find him so he could say something to him again. “It got worse and worse with each day, to the point I was drained. He started manipulating me and guilt tripping me into all sorts of things, and when it didn’t work, he turned to more...violent methods.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting for him to say something, react. That’s when you notice his eyes, filled with anger and protectiveness. “Has he ever…” he tilts his head, swallowing hard. “Has he ever hit you?” You shake your head slightly. “He didn’t hit me.” Your eyes fall down to your hand, the same hand he held so tightly onto earlier. You roll up your sleeve, looking at the purple bruise sparkling on your wrist. “But things like this would happen,” you admit. “He would hold me with too much force or accidentally bump into me too hard and it would leave bruises.”

Mingyu’s breath shakes as he exhales. “I’m here, okay? And I promise you that if I ever see his face again, I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk away unharmed.” You chuckle. “You really don’t have to do that. I’m glad you came today, that we could talk about this. It feels good to get it out.”

He tugs your hair behind your ear again, even though there are no strands in your face. It doesn’t matter. It still makes you fall for him a bit more. If that’s even possible. “When Joshua called me,” he starts, his eyes softening, “I freaked out. I couldn’t think straight. He told me that you might be in danger and all I had in mind is that I’ll hate myself if I don’t get to you in time. I was scared, terrified. And I hoped I could get the chance to apologize and tell you just how I feel about you.”

God, you don’t think you ever wanted to kiss anyone more in your life. He’s perfect. “Do you want to go on a real date?” You ask, a smile forming on your lips. His eyes widen for a second before a chuckle escapes him. “Baby, every date we’ve been on has been real. There is nothing fake about us.”

He connects his lips with yours, his palms flat on your back. You smile into the kiss, tugging on his hair slightly and making him groan. You yelp, laughing as he turns you around, your back now pressed into the couch while he hovers over you, his lips never leaving yours. His kiss is deep, but it’s nothing if not gentle. You wrap your hands behind his neck, letting him kiss you for as long as he wants. If he wants to kiss you for the rest of his life, you’ll gladly let him.

♡⸝⸝

When you see the look on Sujin’s face, you rethink if you should have brought Mingyu here with you. “Hey,” you smile nervously, squeezing his hand. “Oh look who is here,” Daniela smirks, watching you from her seat at the table. “We have a table for seven, not eight,” Seokmin grumbles and Mingyu awkwardly chuckles, looking down at you with his “I told you so” eyes.

“There is an extra seat,” Joshua points out and both Sujin and Seokmin give him a look. He shrugs, moving closer to his girlfriend to create more space in the booth. “Come sit down, dude.” You smile, taking a seat beside Daniela while Mingyu sits next to Joshua.

“Okay, what is this about? Since when do you two talk again?” Chan eyes you confusedly. Your eyes flicker between all of your friends, a sigh leaving your lips. You knew this was coming, that you’ll have to explain everything—that’s why you brought Mingyu along after all—you just thought you’d at least get to order drinks first.

“Yeah, what is this?” Sujin narrows her eyes at Mingyu, eyeing him as if she was planning his murder. Seokmin looks at him as if he could be an accomplice. Great. Just what you wanted to happen. “Guys, it’s okay,” you assure them before they can jump him. It doesn’t do much, but at least you tried, right? “We’ve made up. We’re good now.”

“I always cheered for you two,” Dani nods and Mingyu offers her a smile. “Are we really picking sides right now?” Veronica raises an eyebrow. “Look like it,” Chan mumbles, trying to get Sujin to stop eyeing him so intensively.

“It was all a big misunderstanding. And if it helps, I’ve actually been over Haeun for a long time,” Mingyu says but closes his mouth again when Seokmin glares at him. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to get them back on his side but he had no idea they’d hold such a grudge against him. “What we saw that day in the restaurant,” you start, getting their attention again, “Was them getting into a fight after Mingyu told her to leave him alone because he wants to be with me.”

“Right,” Sujin scoffs at the same time Daniala sings how sweet that is. “I really don’t think you should give him such a hard time,” Joshua shakes his head. “After all, it was him who helped her last week when everyone else was busy.”

“Helped her?” Chan wonders, confused. “With what?” Joshua blinks, glancing between you and your other friends. “You haven’t told them yet,” he realizes, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You close your eyes, hoping to disappear when you feel their eyes burning holes into your face, waiting for an explanation. “Chun showed up at campus last week,” you admit, watching Sujin’s eyes widen. “Was that when you called me?” She gasps immediately, her voice screaming with regret. “How did– Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was busy,” you mumble, glancing at Mingyu. He gives you one of his smiles, reassuring you it will be okay. Sujin gives you a look and you sigh. “Okay, I was avoiding it, trying to forget about it. I know I should have told you but I swear it’s fine. I’m fine. Thanks to Mingyu, and well, Joshua. I’m not sure what would happen if Joshua didn’t call him but…I don’t want to think about that now.”

Sujin’s eyes slowly soften, a heavy exhale leaving her. She glances at Mingyu, shaking off all the pent up hate and disappointment she’s been feeling towards him as she thanks him. “Now, can someone properly explain what happened in the last few weeks?”

You tell them everything that happened, from how you met Chun in the café, to the conversation you had with Mingyu afterwards. He apologizes to all your friends for lying about pursuing you in the first place and hurting you, assuring them it was never his intention. He sounds as if he was talking to a pair of overprotective parents. Maybe that’s exactly what he is doing actually. Sometimes, you think your friends are more protective of you than your family.

Soon after, as your food is served and everyone begins eating, he blends in perfectly. When Sujin realizes he is serious this time, she comes back to her old self, cheering you two on and laughing at the stupid jokes Mingyu throws her way. When she learnt about Seungkwan’s lame flirting with one of Haeun’s friends, she almost spits out her drink.

Seokmin warms up to him shortly after as well, talking to him about some football game from two days ago. In the midst of it, Mingyu’s hand finds your thigh, brushing his fingers against your skin. You smile at him, lacing your fingers with his under the table.

♡⸝⸝

It feels like years since you’ve been this excited about a date. All of the dates Mingyu took you on were incredible, causing a tingling feeling in your stomach, but none of them felt like this. You’ve been preparing for the last thirty minutes, humming to songs from a playlist Mingyu shared with you a few days ago. You knew he was a big music fan, and that you had a similar taste, but you never expected him to make a playlist for you full of your and his favorite songs.

You stand in front of the mirror, looking at yourself one more time. As the girls helped you pick out during your face time a few minutes ago, you have a black, fitted top, paired with a dark gray skirt that ends in the middle of your thighs. It’s cute, and you wonder what Mingyu will think of it. You let your hair down, your glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose. The longer you look at yourself, the prettier you feel. You never felt like this with Chun. You felt self conscious, ugly, but never enough. Is this what they mean by saying the right person will make you glow while the wrong will take your beauty?

As I want to be with you by Chloe Moriondo starts playing, a loud knock on the door makes you snap out of your thoughts. You smile, grabbing your purse from your bed and rushing to the door. “Hi,” you pipe nervously, gripping your purse in both hands as you look at him. His eyes are bright, mouth slightly open as he takes in the sight of you. You’ve matched colors, you realize. He is wearing a black button up—two of said buttons undone—with a pair of black jeans. The bouquet of red roses in his right hand stands out, and your eyes immediately soften when you see it.

“You,” he steps closer, “are,” holding your hand in his, “absolutely gorgeous,” he spins you around, making you giggle. Your palm rests on his chest as soon as he stops you and he doesn’t hesitate leaning down to connect your lips. You smile into the kiss, moving your hand from his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. “Says you,” you mumble, your cheeks bright pink.

“Beautiful flowers for my beautiful lady,” he hands you your flowers, ignoring your comment. You shake your head at him, bringing them up to your nose. You want to tell him he didn’t need to get you any, that he shouldn’t bother, but when you see the smile in his eyes as he looks at you, you can’t. So instead, you settle for a quiet thank you.

You hand him your purse in return when he asks, leaving to put the flowers into water. You tuck them into a vase quickly, not wanting to leave him waiting. You wrap your arm around his, walking with him to his car, like you’ve done many times before, taking over the radio as he drives off.

“So, what is the plan tonight?” You ask, glancing up at him from your phone. He smiles, his eyes on the road. “A movie and a nice dinner,” he answers. “What movie? And what are we eating?” You wonder immediately, making him chuckle. He shakes his head, a sign that you’ll have to wait because he won’t tell you anything.

The cinema isn’t far from your apartment and you could have walked there without any problems but when you point it out, he just brushes you off, saying that it isn’t a big deal and he doesn’t mind driving. You raise your eyebrows at him and he sighs. “Okay, I know we could have walked but the restaurant I want to go to isn’t exactly a walkable distance so we’ll need to drive there.”

You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I don’t need anything fancy. We could have just eaten at your place and I would still be happy just because I’m spending time with you.” — “God, you’re so perfect,” he whispers, kissing you as you stand in the line for tickets. “But I want our date to be just as perfect. We can eat at mine another day. I’ll cook you my best dish and we can eat while cuddled up on the couch.” You smile, “that sounds perfect to me.”

Your auditorium is almost empty, you realize as you scan the place with your eyes, taking a seat in one of the last roads. Probably because of the superman movie playing across the hall. It makes sense for more people to be there for it. You certainly don’t mind. It makes it feel like you have the whole place just to yourself.

Mingyu holds the popcorn bowl while you take care of the drink—a shared one as you agreed on. It’s great, the movie is funny, and every time someone does something stupid, Mingyu leans down to you and guesses which one of his friends would get themself in a similar situation. He makes you laugh more than the movie itself, and you’re glad there is basically no one around you to yell at you that you should keep quiet.

But funny soon turns into something more, and your eyes widen as you watch the pair of friends get drunk at a party and lock themselves in a bathroom. Their clothes are off before you can properly register what’s happening. You glance at Mingyu beside you, biting your bottom lip when you see his embarrassed face. Looks like he had no idea what he was getting you into either. When a moan reaches your ears, you turn your face to the screen again, swallowing nervously.

You feel Mingyu’s breath on your ear, a shiver running down your spine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was so explicit,” he mumbles and you shake your head. This is not what you expected to be watching but it’s fine. “It’s okay,” you assure him, squeezing his hand a little tighter as you watch the guy go down on his friend while she sits on the top of the sink, crossing your legs as you feel yourself getting needier.

Mingyu notices, watching the way your thighs tense as you squeeze them together. His cheeks redden, his eyes quickly scanning your surroundings before landing back on you and your adorable face as you bite your bottom lip, trying to act normal. But you have a tell, a look in your eyes. The same look in your eyes that he noticed the night at his apartment when you kissed for the first time.

He lets go of your hand, and gives your thigh a tight squeeze, making you look up at him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of the way you look at him. He’d bring you the moon and the stars if he could. “Want me to help and scratch the itch?” — “We’re in public,” you mumble but don’t refuse right away. How could you when you’re the one that got worked up over a simple scene in a movie? “No one’s around, they won’t see.” He’s right, the closest people are sitting four roads under, on the other side of the auditorium.

You give him a simple nod, too scared to ask for it out loud. It’s embarrassing. You just hope he won’t get mad at you later or be weirded out.

“You can keep it down, right?” You nod again, getting desperate as his hand moves between your thighs. You uncross your legs, giving him better access. “Oh, baby,” he coos, pushing your panties to the side and letting himself feel how wet you already are. Had he been someplace more private, he might moan just at the feeling. “This wet already?”

“I’m not–” your voice breaks as he pushes a finger inside. “Don’t lie to me, I can feel it, baby.” It’s not the first time he’s called you that, and yet, it makes you even needier. Okay, maybe it’s not the movie that caused all of this. Maybe it’s the fact you haven’t gotten much action in a long time, or that you’ve been thinking about how it’d be to be intimate with him more lately, or maybe it’s just Mingyu in general.

His presence, his voice, his hands, the way he looks at you—you feel drunk on him. Your mouth falls open as he adds another finger, watching your every reaction. You bite back all the moans building in your throat, spreading your legs wider. You rock your hips slightly forward, feeling his fingers sink deeper. “Does that feel good?” — “Yes, yes,” you nod frantically. “More, Gyu, please,” you beg, his fingers losing their rhythm immediately.

He curses under his breath, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his lips. You whine, missing them already. You watch his tongue wrap around his fingers and suck them clean, clenching around nothing but air. You’re so close, just a few more pumps of his fingers and you’d be there. But no. Mingyu simply smirks, tugging your hair behind your ear and blinking at you innocently. “We can’t destroy these seats. Your skirt is already messy enough. What are people going to think when they see you, hm?” His lips brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He can’t be serious.

You hold his hand, whining desperately and trying to bring it back between your legs but he doesn’t give you what you need, leaving you hanging. You sit with a pout for the rest of the movie, refusing to talk to him which only makes him laugh more.

He rests his hand on your lower back as he guides you out of the cinema, a smug smirk shining across his lips. Fine. Two can play this game.

Mingyu opens the car door for you but you don’t get in, stopping right in front of him. You reach under your skirt, slowly lowering your panties and letting them drop to your ankles. You step out of them, watching his eyes widen, following your every movement. “They are so uncomfortable,” you mumble, bending over to pick them up. He panics immediately, jumping behind you so no one walking past could see. “They’re too wet,” you add, straightening your back again and turning around.

You tug your panties into his jeans’ pocket, resting your palms on his chest and feeling his muscles as you close the space between you, looking up at him. “Let’s go back home, Mingyu. Let’s skip dinner and just eat later,” you bat your eyes at him, your hands trailing up until they reach the back of his neck.

It’s safe to say he’s done for. “Let’s go home,” he repeats your words with a nod, one of his hands holding onto your waist while the other finds your ass, giving it a tight squeeze as he leans down and presses his lips to yours. “Fuck, how are you this adorable and sexy at the same time?” You giggle into the kiss, stepping back again.

The ride to his apartment is longer than to yours and you know exactly why he picked the further place—because he is an asshole. He watches you fight the urge to bring yourself back to your orgasm the entire ride, your legs crossed and arms neatly folded on top of them. It’s your face that gives you off, though. You eye his figure, the way his biceps flex from time to time when he catches you looking at him, the way the same fingers that were inside you just moments ago now grip the steering wheel, but mostly the way his cock lets you know of its presence in his jeans. At least you know he suffers as much as you do.

When the front door closes behind you, neither of you waste any time. Mingyu pins you back against the door, his knee sliding up between your legs while his hands hold your face, tilting your head for better access as he kisses you. It’s not rough but it’s desperate. You moan, your hands roaming his back. “Mingyu,” you gasp when he pulls back to breath. “Bed. I don’t want to cum on your thigh in the middle of the living room again.”

He nods, easily picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, still kissing him as he carries you to the bedroom. He managed to bump into things twice on his way but neither of you care, not when your back finally hits his mattress. “I wanted our date to be perfect,” he mumbles, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck. “Any date with you is perfect,” you assure him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moves lower. “But this was our first date since we put a real label on,” his voice is low, disappointment hiding behind his words. He looks up at you, his hands wandering over your bare skin under your shirt, flashing his puppy eyes.

Your eyes soften and you tug on his hair gently, bringing him back up and kissing him. You love how much he cares but you need him to understand it’s okay, that he did nothing wrong and just because the date didn’t go as planned, it doesn’t make it anything less. “Do you think me in your bed isn’t perfect?” He quickly shakes his head. “See? Then this couldn’t be more perfect.” His mouth falls open but no words come out for a second. “You’re incredible,” he says finally, making you smile.

“You know, I never had someone eat me out,” you admit as you gaze into his eyes. His grip on your waist tightens, his eyes widening. He can’t believe it. Not only was your ex an ass, but he was also so stupid he never tasted you? Yeah, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake. “Good thing I was already planning on doing that,” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He doesn’t give you exactly what you want right away, though. He pulls your top over your head, leaving it hanging at your wrists above your head. You watch him, biting your bottom lip when his tongue wraps around your right nipple, rolling your left one between his fingers. You arch your back, hips searching for any form of friction. He smirks against your breast, taking his sweet time with them. “You’re beautiful,” he praises you over and over again. “Get it off,” you beg, a soft whine leaving your lips. “I want to see you. I want–” Another whine, this time louder.

With one last twist of your nipple between his fingers, he pulls back, undoing the rest of his shirt’s buttons and quickly taking it off. It’s probably not sexy at all but he couldn’t care less at the moment. If you want to see him, you’ll get to see him. He pulls down your skirt as well, throwing it on the floor. Keeping his own pants still on, he lowers himself again, this time tracing soft kisses all across your stomach. “Mingyu,” you breathe out, your moans a song to his ears. He takes his time, kissing and biting your inner thighs, only getting you more worked up.

It’s only when you beg for him to touch you, his name rolling off your lips like a prayer that he positions his face between your thighs, looking up at you, his hands gripping your thighs, and his lips wrapping around your clit. He sucks gently at first, listening to your moans as they fill the room. When your fingers find his hair again and you try to pull him even closer, he finally stops being just soft, moving even lower and dipping his tongue between your folds.

A loud gasp escapes you and he licks you like his life depends on it, on this very moment. Your thighs try to close around his head but he only forces them further apart with his hands. He pulls back, just enough to speak. “Keep them open for me, baby. I know you can do it.”

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open as you do as he said, spreading your legs as much as you can. You’re finally starting to understand why oral is such a big deal for women. You’ve never felt better in your life. “Good girl,” he whispers, your head spinning at his words. He notices you clench, smirking. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, looking up at you. “Is that what you like, baby? Being good for me? Do you like it when I call you that?” He sucks on your clit again, making it impossible for you to answer. You nod, whimpering. “It’s too–” your voice breaks before you can finish your sentence, Mingyu’s fingers moving faster. It’s too late to warn him now. You reach your orgasm, falling apart beneath him.

He licks you clean without saying anything, watching you squirm under him. “You did so good,” he praises, kissing your inner thigh again. “So, so, good.” A bite. You gasp, raising your head to look at him. When you do, he is kneeling between your legs, pushing his pants down along with his boxers, finally freeing his hard cock.

Your eyes widen, glancing between his cock and face. You’re in trouble, aren’t you? He wraps his hand around the base, giving it a few pumps, his eyes glued to your face. If you keep looking at him like that he’s not sure how long he can last. “Yes, baby? What’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?”

“You’re big,” you blurt out before you can rethink your words. As soon as you realize you’ve said it out loud, your cheeks turn pink. “I mean– Your muscles! You’re so strong!”

He chuckles, leaning down and stealing a kiss from you. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “You have no idea how great it feels to hear how big my cock is from my girlfriend.” Your cheeks are as red as they can be, your eyes nervously wandering all over his face. He brushes a few sweaty hair strands off your face, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead. “It’ll fit, baby, don’t worry about that. I’ll go slow.” You nod, swallowing a lump in your throat.

He reaches into his bedside table, taking out a condom from the top drawer. You wiggle your hands out of your top and catch his wrist, biting your bottom lip nervously. He looks at you, confusedly tilting his head. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he assures you and you shake your head. “That’s not it. I–” You avert your eyes, your voice quieter now, “you could go without one. I’m clean and not ovulating either.”

His confusion slowly turns into something softer and possessive at the same time. “God, you want me to go crazy, don’t you?” He shakes his head, dropping the condom back at the table and wrapping his hand around his cock. He slaps his tip against your clit, watching your every reaction. “I’m also clean,” he assures you, looking up at you. You don’t meet his eyes, too busy gawking at his cock. He chuckles, “my eyes are up here, baby.”

You know where his eyes are, you just don’t care at the moment. He pushes your legs up and you finally meet his eyes. “Can you hold them up for me?” You nod, wrapping your hands around your thighs and keeping them up. “Just like that,” he mumbles, eyes glued to your pussy, admiring how wet you are. “Mingyu, please,” you beg and as if possessed, he pushes his tip in right away.

He waits for a second, letting you breathe before pushing another inch in. You gasp at the stretch as he slowly fills you up, adding an inch every time he trusts in you. He’s slow at first, gentle, as he waits for you to get used to him. He whispers soft praises, replacing one of your hands and holding your leg up himself. Your moans mixed with his groans fill the room soon enough. “Gyu,” trust, “you can,” trust, “go faster,” you finally get out, your head falling back and eyes closing.

You don’t have to tell him twice. He picks up his preferred speed right after, curses leaving his lips as he listens to the sound of his hips slapping against yours. “It’s like you’ve been made for me,” he groans. “Your pussy feels so perfect around me.”

You clench around him, getting a moan out of him. “Don’t stop, please, Mingyu, just don’t stop,” you cry, making him lose his pace. His thrusts turn sloppy, completely drunk on you as he snaps his hips forward, doing his best to keep himself from finishing. He needs to feel you cum around him first.

“You take me so well, baby.” You nod, barely comprehending his words as you get closer to another orgasm. “It’s so good,” you gasp. “You fill me so well, Mingyu.” That seems to have done it for him. Thankfully, you reach your orgasm at the same time as him, clenching around him as he slowly fucks his cum into you. He lets go of your leg, leaning down and kissing you. You meet his lips with the same need he feels, wrapping your hands behind his neck and legs around his waist. “Don’t pull out yet,” you whisper and he nods. “Anything you want, love.”

You stay wrapped in each others’ warmth until your stomach growls and you both look at each other, laughing. “Let’s wash up and I’ll cook something, okay?” He asks, kissing your lips, your cheek, the corner of your eye. “Sounds great,” you agree, letting him pick you up and carry to the bathroom.

He helps you wash up, his touch gentle. You find yourself clinging to him, smiling as he kisses your whole body over and over again. He washes your hair without you having to ask, and you notice he uses the same shampoo you have at home. Has he spied on your bathroom supplies the last time he was at your apartment in case you stayed over? It surely looks like it when your eyes land on the same conditioner and body wash you own, standing right beside his own.

When you step out of the shower, he helps you dry up as well, soft praises leaving his lips. He is adorable, and all you can think about is how you can’t wait for more days and nights spent together with him. “Wait here, I’ll get you clothes to change into.” You nod, leaning against the wall as he disappears from the bathroom. When he comes back, he is carrying one of his boxers and a shirt. You put on the shirt first just to see how large it is and he watches you with heart eyes, leaning against the bathroom door. “Have I told you how beautiful you are yet?” You smile at him, leaving the boxers on the sink and closing the distance between you. “You did,” you remind him, kissing him again.

“I love you,” he whispers, his hands resting on your waist. You want to be shocked or freaked out, but all you can do is smile and wrap your hands around him, resting your chin against his chest as you look up at him. “I love you too.”

You could look at the smile that spreads across his lips for the rest of your life. Maybe you will. Maybe you’ll tell him how much you love him for the rest of your life just to see him like this.

You stand on your tiptoes, kissing him one more time, simply because that’s also something you want to do until you die.

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ts19009 · 9 days ago

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ts19009 · 10 days ago

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A teaser with 5k words. Doing the lord's work 🙏

build this dream together (teaser)

🔞 18+, minors do not interact • masterlist • submit a request 🚨 minors and blank blogs will be blocked

🏎️💨 Brought to you by @camandemstudios' Lights Out Collab

As his race engineer, you’ve spent five amazing years guiding McLaren superstar, Joshua Hong, to victory after victory. But in that fifth year, you learn something horrifying about yourself: you’ve fallen in love with your driver. You’re not willing to let your heart get in the way of everything you’ve worked for, so you do the one thing you know is guaranteed to keep both of your careers safe: you leave.

Two years later, Joshua inadvertently comes crashing back into your life with an announcement that rocks the F1 world. Before you know it, you’re on his doorstep with an offer you know he won’t be able to refuse, ready to guide him back to where he needs to be—one last time.

♫ Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now Starship

pairing: joshua x fem!reader wc (for the teaser): 4.7k tags (for the teaser): mentions of alcohol, mentions of workplace discrimination (for the full fic): slow burn, smut, coworkers/best friends to lovers, flashbacks, description of a crash but no one gets hurt, more to come! a/n: ahhhh so excited to share this one with you all! as i’ve stated previously, my knowledge of f1 is minimal. i mostly tried to keep it realistic but as far as f1 academy goes, i’ve pretty much completely ignored the way it actually works irl LOL. you don’t need to know much for the teaser, but i’ll be posting a glossary and an outline of what i ignored alongside the full fic! for now, just enjoy :) tag list info at the end :)

ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX 2023 "I can't believe this... I can't fucking believe this."

Joshua’s voice comes through the radio so soft, it’s barely audible over the roar of his engine. Your instinct is to keep your eyes on the screen, confirm that your driver’s tires are fine, fuel levels okay, no other car on his ass. But it’s useless because Joshua is seconds from the finish line with no chance for anyone else to take it and no time penalties to serve.

“Believe it, Shua,” you say into your mic as you swivel your chair around and away from your monitor. Your eyes immediately find his bright orange MCL60 approaching the checkered flag like a bullet. “You did it.”

The words are bittersweet, and if this had been last season, you would’ve been jumping up and down with the rest of the team, screaming into Joshua’s earpiece and losing your goddamn mind. Today, though, you stay glued to your seat. Even when the wind of Joshua crossing the finish line right before your eyes whips at your face, even when the world explodes around you in a vivacious spray of confetti and champagne, even when Joshua Hong becomes a two-time F1 world champion—you stay seated.

“We did it,” he corrects, sounding as calm as you feel. You wonder if you sound it, though—if you sound lonely too, because you are. “And that’s not what I can’t believe.”

You watch as his car starts to slow across the track. “Oh yeah? Always knew you were going to bag another title, did you?” you joke.

He doesn’t laugh. You clear your throat and sigh, knowing you’ve been skirting around the devastation of this all.

“What can’t you believe, Shua?”

Silence. His car feels impossibly far from you even though it’s only been seconds. You think the irony is cruel. You wait a few more moments for his response, and when you receive none, you assume he’s already disconnected from the radio. Just before you take your headset off, he answers you.

“I can’t believe that you’re really leaving me.”

Your stomach twists painfully. He makes his way back, pulling into the pit lane, where he parks next to the first place sign meant for him. Immediately, staff members are already swarming the car—some to tend to the car, some to offer him water, some to scream and cry and congratulate. But still, he stays inside his vehicle, and he stays connected to you.

There are a multitude of things you want to tell him.

You want to tell him you aren’t leaving him because you want to; you’re sparing both of your careers from the scrutiny that would inevitably come if you stayed.

You want to tell him he’s currently the best driver on the grid. Your absence isn’t going to change that, especially when he’s so seasoned, that most of what you do now is just play music for him and inform him how many seconds he has until he reaches the next car.

You want to tell him this is the right thing to do, no matter how horrible it feels.

Above all, you just want to tell him you love him—that although you only found out a few months ago, you think you fell in love with him the moment you both turned your radios on the first time you raced together—and that’s why you have to go. That’s why you can’t be his race engineer a second longer.

In the end, “I can’t either” is what you settle on. I’m so sorry rings loudly in your head but never leaves your mouth.

“So this is it, huh?” His breath comes out shaky and you know him well enough to know it’s not from the adrenaline of winning another world title.

“This is it,” you confirm, a knot forming in your throat.

“It was a good run, L/N.” You think you hear a knot in his too.

“The best run, Hong.” You can’t help your voice from cracking when you add: “The best of my life.”

“Mine too,” he says with no hesitation, though his voice sounds watery now. You feel your heart break.

“Shua,” you croak.

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For the past five years, for genuinely believing I could get you here, for… being my… my friend.” The word hurts you in unimaginable ways. “The best friend. Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me. It was easy,” he responds. “You made everything easy—all of it. I should thank you… you… you make this sport worthwhile.”

You press your lips together to keep from breaking out into uncontrollable sobs, nodding to yourself as you try to wrap your mind around this being your last real moment with Joshua.

He sighs deeply, another brief silence engulfing the two of you before he speaks again. “I’ll see you out there?”

You hum because you can’t bring yourself to tell him he won’t. As you take your headphones off, the first of your tears fall and you let them; it’s the one time you can without being judged for being too emotional or too feminine. Every grown man on Team McLaren is bawling right now, anyway.

You slide off your seat and watch from the pit wall as Joshua exits his vehicle a few moments later and waves at the deafening crowd. For five years, you’ve guided Joshua through every F1 track in the world, you weathered countless storms—literal and figurative—together, and you’ve made him a world champion twice.

But for almost ten years, since the time you started as a low-ranking mechanic at McLaren, you also endured misogynistic slights from the more old-school members of your team, comments that it doesn’t take much to do your job when Joshua Hong is the driver, and teasing that you were only in this to snag a rich husband off the grid.

You persevered. You clawed your way up the ranks. You earned the respect you wanted so badly, and as much as you want to say fuck it and just stay, you can’t. Because being around Joshua when you’re knowingly in love with him feels impossible. And if you can’t hide it, then you’ll have to say it. And if you say it, your career will be over, and you can’t let it be tarnished now—not when it’s at its peak. Not when Joshua is at his either.

Loving him will ruin everything you worked for. Loving him will not only cut you at the knees, but every woman after you who vies for this position. And it’s not going to happen.

Joshua doesn’t see you out there. You leave long before he even gets off the track and long before his time is freed up post photo ops and interviews. You can’t stay and confront the betrayal that’s been dancing in his eyes for weeks, even though he swore up and down that he was happy you found something new and exciting. You can’t let him wrap his arms around you one last time while he whispers heartfelt thank yous for an amazing season—an amazing five seasons—into your ear, confetti raining down and champagne soaking the both of you through to your bones. You can’t do any of it because if you do, you’ll lose your nerve and you’ll stay.

And you can’t. You have a flight to catch and the best F1 driver in the world to forget about.

Abu Dhabi two years ago was the last time you saw or heard from Joshua. A small part of you hoped he would reach out, but you knew that was a selfish thing to want; after all, you were the one that ran off without a proper goodbye after a five-year career together. Still, there were a lot of days you looked at your phone and wished he would send one of his silly memes or just ask how the job was going.

Conversely, though, you never texted either. Not when he bombed his very next season, and not when he lost this season’s title by a hair.

But now… now feels like as good a time as any to text.

The computer lab is in an uproar as your current class of female drivers stop what they’re doing to leap out of their seats and crowd around the massive flat screen television mounted on the back wall, gaping at it. You gape from your desk at the front of the classroom.

“Whoa, didn’t you work with him, Mickie?” For McLaren—a nickname that kind of irritated you at first but have grown accustomed to.

“She was his race engineer!”

“He’s crazy!”

Saki, who had been at your desk to ask a question when you noticed Joshua on the TV and immediately unmuted it, speaks softly—surely not meant to be heard amongst the other girls’ shouting.

“He did seem tired.”

You tear your eyes off Joshua to frown at the student. You’re unsure if she was talking to you or to herself, but the observation shakes you to your core anyway. You would never admit it, but you watched every single race of his since you left. Before this, you don’t know that you would describe him as tired, but now, you’re not sure if you managed to miss something your student saw. You choose not to respond, finding your way back to your ex-driver’s face.

“There’s no way he’s serious! Is he serious?”

“Why wouldn’t he be serious? His career has been tanking.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s because his race engineers haven’t been as good as Mick.”

“Maybe it’s time to get ahead of it and just retire while people still like him.”

“Shut up, Sophia!”

“Don’t talk to each other like that,” you mumble half-heartedly, too distracted by the TV to really reinforce the reprimand.

“He’s a legend! He had one bad season—”

“Two,” someone says.

“Well, that’s not fair, he did pretty well this season.”

“—and now no one will give him a break.”

“Girl. He’s giving himself a break,” another voice chimes in.

“Anything other than first place is for losers.”

“This isn’t a break, this is career suici—”

“Okay!” a voice cuts sharply into the noise. You don’t flinch the way the girls do, eyes glued to the screen as Joshua patiently answers questions. The unmistakable clacking of the CEO’s heels striking the floor have all the girls straightening their posture. “Crazy news, I know.”

The TV turns off and you fight the urge to whine alongside the girls. You turn to look at Park Jihyo, who puts the remote back down on the edge of your desk where she found it.

“I know you’re all excited to be here together, but the season starts in just four months, and we’re hitting the ground running,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and looking every driver in the eye. “And you aren’t going to let news about the millionth man in F1 derail your chances at getting into a major team, now are you, ladies?”

There’s a chorus of nos as Jihyo nods once and claps her hands before making a shooing motion.

“Good. Because there’s no room for distractions when you’re a woman,” she reminds them. It’s something you’ve heard nonstop since coming to F1 Academy as a technical executive and instructor. Most of the time, you felt like it was being drilled into your head, not the girls’. “Now get back to working on… whatever engineering thing Y/N has you working on.” You snort. “You’re due at the gym for cardiovascular training in two hours and I don’t want to hear that a single one of you was late, understood?”

“Understood!” a bunch of girls chirp as they hurriedly turn back to their respective computers. You sigh, ready to get back to guiding and teaching them, when Jihyo steps into your path.

She smiles mischievously.

“What…?” you ask slowly, subconsciously slinking away from her as she leans forward.

“Got a minute?”

You want to say no, but as close as you personally are to Jihyo, she’s still your boss and you refuse to show her any sort of disrespect in front of the students, whether or not it’s a joke.

“Sure,” you say, nodding for her to enter your office ahead of you before turning back to the girls. “Listen up. You feel something off in your steering—slight pull to the right, but there’s no warning on the dash. You’re in the points with 10 laps to go. Give me a few minutes with CEO Park and when I’m back, I want to hear what you’re telling your engineer and what your game plan is.”

The girls don’t bother responding, immediately turning back to their notebooks or computers and parsing out their thoughts. You follow Jihyo into the office attached to your classroom, closing the door behind you. She takes the seat at your desk across from your own, obviously expecting you to sit there. Instead, you plop onto the couch face down, making your boss roll her eyes at you.

“So,” she starts slowly and awkwardly, “how are you feeling…?”

You stare at her blankly, cheek pressed into the fabric of the sofa. “Fine?”

“Pfft.” She kicks her heels off before she sinks lower in her seat, making herself just as comfortable as you. “Joshua Hong just announced a sabbatical and you’re ‘fine’?”

The words are surreal. You just watched a news broadcast of his announcement and the subsequent press conference, and still, your brain wants to convince you Jihyo is lying. The sabbatical is one thing—that was becoming a more normalized event in the sport as drivers started to focus on their families and their mental health. But Joshua’s own words during the interview was another.

Joshua, what does this sabbatical mean for your career? Do you plan on returning to to the track?

I’m not sure at the moment what it means. Maybe it’s time for me to rest and get my head back in the game for next season. Maybe it’s the beginning of an early retirement. I don’t know. I just know it’s needed and I’m grateful McLaren is working with me to make it happen.

No hesitation. The words “early retirement” really came out of Joshua “I’m Going to Be Buried in an MCL60” Hong’s stupid, pretty mouth. You never thought you’d see the day.

“Why would Joshua Hong’s career decisions affect me?” you ask stubbornly, knowing you’re being purposefully daft. “We don’t work together anymore.” You throw a hand up to gesture lazily at your office. “Obviously. You poached me.”

Jihyo lets out a single bark of laughter. “HA! Poached! That’s funny considering you had your foot halfway out of McLaren when I reached out to you. Why was that again?” she asks with fake forgetfulness. “Oh, right! You fell in love with your driver.”

“Every day I regret telling you anything about myself.”

“You didn’t tell me. Drunk you did.”

You wave your hand at her in a silent “whatever.”

“Well, if you’re so ‘fine,’ I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Okay?” you sigh, feeling very much like the teenage girls outside of your office right now. It’s crazy what a man can do to your mood even two years after completely abandoning him. “You need me to look over more designs for this season?”

Jihyo scoffs like she’s about to say no before stopping herself. “Actually, yes, I do, but that’s not what my favor is. Especially because that’s not a favor, that’s your job.”

You try not to laugh.

“I need you to poach someone for me.”

You immediately tense. She doesn’t continue, letting the words really sink in. You scramble up onto your knees from where you were sprawled across the couch.

“What the hell are you saying right now?”

“I’m saying that the best driver on the grid is on sabbatical a measly 2-hour flight from here, for who knows how long, and these girls could benefit from learning from the best of the absolute fucking best.”

“Joshua wants to rest,” you immediately argue. “And frankly, he needs it! The man has been behind some kind of wheel for an ungodly amount of years!”

“And you don’t think going from his schedule at McLaren to a schedule teaching girls here won’t be a significant change of pace for him?” she asks incredulously. “Please! Tell me that the transition didn’t feel like a full-on retirement, even for you.”

Jihyo isn’t wrong.

Being a race engineer was deceptively tiring. A lot of people reduced it to sitting at a monitor for two hours, but your days were long and grueling and a lot more demanding than just race days. You were involved in what felt like countless hours of engineering debriefs, research and development, spreadsheets (god, the spreadsheets), and not to mention, Joshua made you somewhat of his personal therapist, begging you to follow him around the facility when he was in for practice sessions or training. If you stood your ground and refused, you’d find him following you around.

Not to mention the traveling. Or the actual race days.

Coming to F1 Academy was a breath of fresh air. Sure, you came feeling like the wind had been knocked out of you, but that had more to do with leaving Joshua than anything else. F1 Academy slowed life down for you.

The schedule wasn’t completely less forgiving; you were still on a race schedule, but instead of traveling to 21 different countries and having 24 different races over the course of nine months, you only had to attend 7 races in 6 different countries in roughly the same amount of time. On top of that, you weren’t a superstar driver’s race engineer. You weren’t anybody’s engineer; all you had to do was supervise and step in if someone was struggling with a student driver. Compared to F1, it practically felt like vacation.

And even more than that, it felt meaningful, cultivating the careers of aspiring female drivers and giving them a path into a male-dominated sport. You know better than anyone else that Joshua would absolutely love it.

“I think this would be good for Hong, and I think this would be good for you,” she tells you.

You try not to balk at her. “Do you hear yourself? You think it would be good for your technical executive and head engineering instructor to work with the man she left her last position for? You said it yourself! I was in love with him!”

You ignore the way Jihyo very obviously tries to keep from rolling her eyes at your use of the word “was.”

“You can deny it all you want but I know there is something very… unresolved there,” she says, lip curling in mock disgust at the sheer thought of emotions. “And even if it’s not romantic—”

“What do you mean?!” you laugh incredulously. “It should not be romantic if we’re going to be working here together! You should actually be discouraging that as my boss.”

“Pfft,” she waves a hand. “I’m not in HR. That is not my job. If I want to ship two of my employees—”

“He’s not even an employee yet.”

“—then I will ship two of my employees.”

“You are so ridiculous.”

“Besides, you didn’t even let me finish,” she pouts at you. You nod in defeat and let her continue. “Like I was saying, even if it’s not romantic—and I’ll proudly be the first to admit I hope it’s romantic!” she says the disclaimer quickly and in one breath, “I’d still love to see you fix your friendship with him. I know it mattered a lot to both of you.”

Your relationship to Jihyo changed overnight. One day, she was your funny, albeit intimidating boss, and then with the help of several bottles of soju and an Academy staff karaoke night, she was suddenly visiting your office at least twice a day, you were constantly hanging out outside of work, and you knew everything about each other. Including how much you cherished Joshua, not as someone you were in love with, but as a human being you loved, period.

“But I won’t pretend this is selfless,” she sighs. “We’re three seasons into the Academy, going on four, and we have yet to see any of our graduates enter F1.”

You fidget uncomfortably. It’s a stress point for the entire organization and something you’re reminded of in what feels like every meeting.

“I don’t need to remind you what little time we have to prove this program a success.”

Three more seasons after this next one.

When the program was conceived, F1 agreed to see what the Academy could achieve in seven seasons. They wanted at least two female drivers in F1 by then, but the stretch goal was to have the winning graduate from every season on a team, even as reserve drivers. That didn’t happen, but they could still get two girls in there; it would just mean having to do it very, very soon.

“No…” you shake your head. “You don’t need to remind me.”

You sit on your couch properly and stare at Jihyo, who refuses to continue speaking. She’s letting you stew in your thoughts, well aware your overactive brain will be better at convincing you than she ever will.

Finally, you groan.

She doesn’t even have the decency to wait for you to agree that Joshua is the best answer before she’s clapping excitedly. She’s infuriating but she’s right. It would be mutually beneficial; the girls would inherit a wealth of knowledge from a driver like him, and he would see what you get to every day: how easy it is to make a difference when your life isn’t solely on the track.

And you don’t know why he’s taken this break, but you have a nagging feeling that’s exactly what he needs.

“Okay, okay, relax,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “How do we even do this? McLaren would’ve had him sign an ironclad agreement that guarantees his return to the team from sabbatical… unless he decides to retire.” You feel your stomach lurch at the idea.

Jihyo waves a hand like the legalities of Joshua’s employment don’t matter to her. “You don’t worry your beautiful, little head about that. While you were all busy screaming at the TV like banshees, I was already on the phone convincing the big guy to let us at him.”

“You asked the CEO of McLaren? And he agreed to you stealing Joshua during his sabbatical…?”

It doesn’t sound anything like the staunch businessman you came to know over the decade you spent at his organization. He was nice enough, but he was also incredibly greedy—in all the ways that rich men always are. But there was nothing he was greedier about than talent. When he liked a driver—and more importantly, when a driver delivered wins, and therefore money—he kept him forever. Even if that meant convoluted contracts with tricky fine prints. You doubt that has changed.

“No,” she says, smirking and looking incredibly pleased with herself, “I did not ask. I bartered. I already had a leg up since that neon orange eyesore of a company of yours is our biggest proponent.”

If McLaren’s CEO’s greed was good for one thing, it was that he wanted the best of the best, and that absolutely included women. As such, he’s been the only CEO very enthusiastically circling the Academy looking for his next star.

“I told him if he gave me Hong during his sabbatical, he could have first pick from our litter of talented ladies during any one season he’s interested in,” Jihyo informs you.

You stare blankly at her. “Like the NBA draft…?”

“Girl, I only know cars. I don’t know what that means.”

“Right,” you nod, opting to move on instead of explain. “What if that girl doesn’t want to sign with McLaren?”

Jihyo scoffs. “Then she doesn’t sign with McLaren! I’m not the devil, Y/N; I’m not selling souls here. I’m just giving him the first chance to meet and talk to a driver of his choice before any of the other neanderthals. Convincing her he’s good enough to sign with him is all on him.”

You hum in understanding. “Okay, so why can’t he just tell Joshua himself?”

“So that’s my hiccup,” she groans. “He said he’s all ours if he says yes, but he seems convinced that this is the last thing Hong would want to do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay… well then, he doesn’t know him at all. This is the exact kind of thing he’d want to do.”

You know because he invited you to enough non-profit events he supported in the off season to volunteer with him, join him on a panel about F1, or just show face. This is exactly up his alley.

Jihyo shrugs. “He says, ‘The boy has lost his spark,’” she imitates him in an exaggeratedly deep and hoarse voice. “Even if that’s true, I have the perfect person to give him that spark right back!”

She grins widely, blinking her eyes rapidly at you.

“Your faith in me is astronomical.”

“No, your doubt in yourself is astronomical,” she corrects, rolling her eyes. “I’m willing to bet $100,000 that even two years after quitting each other cold turkey, Joshua Hong is still willing to bend over backwards for you.”

You wince at the wording. You don’t like the idea that you quit him because it wasn’t like that. You quit the chance to stay in love with him.

“He has never bent over backwards for me.”

In fact, you’d argue the roles were reversed. It was kind of in your job description as his race engineer: bend over backwards to make sure your driver becomes a renowned champion.

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighs, smiling softly. “My naive child.”

You glare.

“No bet?” she asks innocently before shrugging. “Okay, smart move for you, honestly. You would’ve been out a pretty penny.”

She starts slipping her feet back into her heels, obviously ready to go off to whatever her next endeavor is. Probably plotting what other ways she can complicate your life.

“Look,” she sighs, slapping her hands against her lap when she finished putting her shoes on, “if he doesn’t want to do it, then he doesn’t want to do it and I’ll just have to take no for an answer. It would suck because I’d still have to hold up my end of the bargain with McLaren either way, but we obviously can’t force the guy to do anything. It would just be a nice plus for not only the girls, but for you. I know it.”

You don’t bother trying to deny it, not because you agree; you actually vehemently disagree, and you have the evidence to prove it would not be good for you.

Exhibit A: in the months following your realization you were in love with Joshua Hong, you were a nauseating mix of absolutely miserable and absolutely thrilled any time you were with him (almost all the time). It was exhausting and it sucked the life out of you.

Exhibit B: you were always distracted. Maybe never during a race because your only focus was making sure your driver won and that he won safely. But every other moment of the day, you were thinking about Joshua, talking to Joshua, listening to Joshua, trying not to scream while Joshua followed you around everywhere, watching Joshua, averting your eyes when Joshua looked up, talking to Wonwoo about Joshua, studying Joshua’s stats, debriefing Joshua’s last race, wondering if you’d see Joshua, daydreaming about Joshua, getting hopelessly lovesick over Joshua—Joshua, Joshua, Joshua!!!

None of that can be good for you.

You don’t deny that it would be good for you because you agree with her; you just don’t have the energy to confront the questions that would require denying it. The main question being: would any of that even be a problem if you’re not in love with him anymore? Because wasn’t that the point of leaving McLaren? To stop being in love? And if you’re not in love with him anymore, then why are you so worried about having to be in his proximity?

You take a deep breath as Jihyo stands.

“When do I go?” you look up at her as she walks to the door of your office. She looks back at you and smiles.

“I have the company plane ready for you at Heathrow. Wheels up in an hour.” Your mouth drops in shock. She turns to leave before seeming to remember something. “Oh, and your sub is standing in the hall ready to take over for the girls.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Wrong. I’m efficient.”

a/n: eeeep!!! this one’s gonna be a long one, y’all. i’m at a little over 30k rn and i expect to land nearer to 50 🫣 all fics from the collab will post by the end of the month! to join the official c&e studios tag list, click here! please note that this is the collab tag list and not mine. you can choose to be notified of any or all of the authors’ fics! hope you’ll support all 26 of us! ❤️🏎️

#joshua fic rec

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ts19009 · 10 days ago

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Shut up im so excited. I've been reading some old f1 fics and they're crack

🏎️ Cam&Em Studios Presents...

Cam [ @highvern] and Em [ @gyuswhore] welcome you to the 2025 Formula One season! Handcrafted by Caratland's best writers, we're here to ask you to join us for the most riveting grid lineup the sport has ever seen. Catch all 26 destinations on our calendar, and all the drama that goes down in the paddocks with it, because soon it'll be Lights Out, and Away We Go!

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🏁 Race: Overtake by @sailorsoons

🏎️ Driver: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: Seungcheol and your brother Joshua battle over everything - pole positions, championships, the title of Mercedes’ best driver. The one thing they were never supposed to fight over was you.